
PLAIN- 
TOWNS 




ITALY 



EGERTON^R^ WILLIAMS -JR 




Class ^ JD ^. k^i 
Book 



Copyright)!". 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSKT. 



^p ©ffcrtou K. ^tlUame, Jr. 



PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY; THE CITIES 
OF OLD VENETIA. Fully Illustrated. 

HILL TOWNS OF ITALY. Fully Illus- 
trated. 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
Boston and New York 



PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 




UDINE. PIAZZAl 




TTORIO EMANUELE. 



■p^ 



PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 
C|)e Cities of (J^lli 'grenetia 



BY 



EGERTON R. WILLIAMS, Jr. 

Author of " Hill-Towns of Italy," " Ridolfo," etc. 



ILLUSTRATED FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
^fte fiitietisi&e pie^? Cambrilige 
1911 



x^ 



^^*^ 
i 



COPYRIGHT, 191 1, BY EGERTON R. WILLIAMS, JR. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



Published October iqil 



©CI.A300379 



To 

the truest, most faithful, and most reliable of friends 

Ernest Boyd Millard 

whose lifelong constancy and sterling character have pre- 
served in the oft clouded heavens a circle of brightness that 
has never narrowed, this work is dedicated as a slight mark 
of the affectionate gratitude and esteem for which I can find 
no adequate expression. 



Oh! land, to mem'ry and to freedom dear. 
Land of the melting lyre and eonqu'ring spear. 
Land of the vine-clad hill, the fragrant grove. 
Of arts and arms, of genius and of love, 
Hear, fairest Italy! Though now no more 
Thy glitt'ring eagles awe th' Atlantic shore. 
Nor at thy feet the gorgeous Orient flings 
The blood -bought treasures of her tawny kings; 
Though vanished all that formed thine old renown. 
The laurel garland, and the jewelled crown, 
Th' avenging poniard, the victorious sword. 
Which reared thine empire, or thy rights restored; 
Yet still the constant Muses haunt thy shore. 
And love to linger where they dwelt of yore. 

MACAUIiAY. 



PREFACE 

' The issuance of this volume, designed as a companion 
book to the Hill-Towns of Italy, marks the second 
step in the execution of a project which was conceived 
at the time of the latter's production; and which was 
confirmed in my mind by the kind reception accorded 
the Hill-Towns by the public. Eight years, it is true, 
have since passed; but it was not until four years ago, 
on laying aside all other business and coming to Italy 
to dwell, that I was able at last to devote myself to 
the preparation of this work, — a work exceedingly 
more laborious than the former, and requiring far more 
time for its due completion, both from the nature of 
the ground it covers and from the wider scope which 
I have endeavored to give it, but, like the former, a 
work of love. 

From the hill-towns of central Italy I turned by 
contrast to the great northern plain, seeking, as I had 
done with the mountain-regions, that section of it 
which is most filled with interest of every kind. Such 
is the province of Venetia. It is a daring thing, I know, 
to offer at this day a book dealing with cities so oft 
written about as Padua and Verona, each of which, 
also, requires and has received a full volume for its 
entire elucidation. They are, however, but a small 
though necessary part of this work; which endeavors 
to be an exposition of the whole region of old Venetia, 
setting forth all its towns and countryside worth visit- 
ing, in the realms of history, art, and natural beauty, 
including the varied peoples and their ways, with re- 
ferences to a good part of the authorities who have at 



X PREFACE 

anytime written upon those subjects; taking the reader 
with me as a companion in my wanderings, from day 
to day. 

Most of the towns covered — especially in the dis- 
tricts of the Polesine, the Trevisan Marches, and Fri- 
uli, more than half of the total number — have been 
very little and but casually written about in our 
language, some of them not at all; while in the case of 
the larger cities, their political and artistic history and 
associations had to be collated from a large number 
of different sources. Thus the field which I have aimed 
at has not hitherto been occupied : the gathering within 
one cover of all that information and description 
which may enable the fireside reader to see the whole 
of the lovely Veneto through my eyes, and which may 
at the same time act as a helpful guide to the hurried 
traveler. Whether I have succeeded in this aim, it 
remains for the reader to decide. 

Venetia should be visited and read about, for the 
same reasons that make it the most beautiful and 
fascinating section of that wondrous plain, for which 
the nations of man have struggled and bled since the 
dawn of civilization. The story of the Veneto surpasses 
in interest and significance even that of Lombardy or 
Emilia, and cannot be too closely grasped by him who 
would know the gradations of human progress. Its 
towns are deathless monuments on the advancing 
path of human culture, liberty, and the science of free 
government. 

Under the Romans, mighty Padua was the third 
city of the Empire, — following only upon Rome and 
Cadiz; Verona and Brescia were also centres of the 
first magnitude, and Cividale and Aquileia were the 
guardians of the frontier; for from Padua to the latter 
marched the great highway to the Orient, and from 



PREFACE xi 

Verona and her neighbor led the teeming arteries of 
commerce across the Alps. Under the Goths, Odoacer, 
Theodoric, and their successors held royal sway upon 
the Adige, where Alboin subsequently ruled his Lom- 
bards, and fell by the assassins' steel. In fact, with 
the fall of Rome the fount and centre of Italian power 
shifted to the northern plain, to its industrious cities, 
who conserved within their walls all that remained 
of Roman knowledge, law, and customs, commingling 
not with the barbarians, preserving the freedom and 
handicrafts of their citizens, asserting through the 
dark ages the individualities and the rights of Roman 
municipalities, uniting in the glorious Lombard 
League to shake from their land the oppressive rule of 
the foreign emperors, — until they burst from the 
long shadow as the leaders and propagators, with 
Florence, of the rising Renaissance. 

Nothing is more inspiring than the annals of Padua, 
Verona, Brescia, and Vicenza in those four hundred 
years succeeding the end of barbaric rule, from the 
loosening of the Prankish grip to the middle of the thir- 
teenth century, when as indomitable little republics, 
fighting off the pretensions of Pope and Emperor, 
advancing steadily the causes of human knowledge, 
civilization, and free government, while London and 
Paris lay still in the mire of savagery, they embellished 
their paved piazzas with those marvelous series of 
churches and civic buildings, constructed with an art 
drawn from their own untutored minds and expressing 
their own vivid individualities, which still demon- 
strate to our wondering eyes how lightly upon them 
lay that shadow of the Middle Age ! Then was founded 
that great university which drew its scholars by the 
thousands from every country on the globe, which for 
centuries placed Padua far in the van of human 



xii PREFACE 

thought and progress, and disseminated her culture 
through the barbaric nations of the north. Followed 
at a distance by the institutions of Verona and Vicenza, 
it led the way from mental obscurity into the bright 
fields of Humanism. 

In the succeeding era of the despots, the Veneto 
maintained its leading position. In the Polesine it 
produced that resplendent race of tyrants, the oldest 
and most cultured of all, who from their conquest of 
that district descended upon Ferrara, Modena, and 
Reggio, placing the proud name of Este amongst the 
antecedents of all royal lines. From the Trevisan 
Marches appeared that most famous and powerful of 
early despots, Ezzelino da Romano, who reduced the 
whole province beneath his bloody yoke, and has left 
in many a town his still visible and fearful imprint. 
The subsequent Delia Carrara of Padua, and Delia 
Scala of Verona, stood foremost among the tyrants 
of the dawning Renaissance, illustrious for their con- 
quests as for their patronage of science, literature, 
and the arts, and they began the remodeling of their 
subject cities on the alluring lines of to-day. After 
them came "the mightier power which caused their fall, 
the great Republic that stretched her resistless arms 
slowly over the whole eastern plain, endowing it for 
all time with the lustre of her name. Venice brought 
to the long battling cities peace, order, prosperity, 
and a benevolent, paternal rule that caused them to 
leap forward in the onrush of the Renaissance, and 
develop those magnificent schools of painting, sculpt- 
ure, and architecture which made Venetia the jewel- 
casket of Italy. 

Thus was inaugurated that wonder-working era 
which crowned the Veneto's historical importance 
with a beauty that is possessed by no other province. 



PREFACE xiii 

that spread through every town and hamlet, and was 
bound into all the circumstances of their lives. Venice 
became the adored ideal of her emulative subjects. 
Vicenza's grand school of architecture, led by the im- 
mortal Palladio, Scamozzi, and Calderari, united with 
the great Sammicheli of Verona, and with Sansovino, 
Coducci, and the other builders of the Sea Queen, in 
remoulding the Veneto cities into a lustrous semblance 
of their suzerain. In his home town Palladio erected 
that marvelous Basilica which was the chef d'ceuvre 
of the Renaissance. Over the field of sculpture pre- 
sided the royal genius of Donatello, from the crown 
of his glittering masterpieces at S. Antonio of Padua; 
and his brilliant followers, Rizzo, Leopardi, and the 
Lombardi, joined with Riccio, Sansovino, and the 
latter's disciples, in the splendid adornment of the 
Veneto's churches and piazzas. 

In the field of painting the province rose still more 
supreme. Cultured Padua had led the way at the 
beginning of the trecento by calling to her Giotto him- 
self, who left his imperishable. masterpieces upon the 
walls of her Church of the Arena; and Verona had 
followed by producing that astonishing pair of artists, 
Altichieri and d'Avanzo, whose works in Padua prove 
them to have been Giotto's greatest successors of the 
century. The quattrocento saw initiated in that same 
city the momentous school of Squarcione, from whose 
portals emerged the leading genius of the new age, 
Andrea Mantegna; and the contemporary school of 
Verona soared by the early cinquecento into such a 
brilliancy, glowing with the gorgeous canvases of 
Liberale, dai Libri, Caroto, the Morone, Cavaz- 
zola, and a dozen other renowned masters, that no 
one who has failed to study them can know the full 
achievements of Italian art. At Vicenza labored the 



xiv PREFACE 

refulgent Montagna and Buonconsiglio; at Castel- 
franeo, the superb Giorgione and his pupils; at Bas- 
sano, the famous family of the Da Ponte. Brescia's 
school reached its apogee in the lustrous works of 
Moretto and Romanino. To the woods of Friuli the 
eyes of the world were drawn by the exploits of Por- 
denone, Pellegrino da S. Daniele, Giovanni da Udine, 
and others. To the masterpieces of all these schools 
and artists of the first rank, scattered sparkling 
throughout the towns and villages of the plain, were 
added those of the mighty Venetian masters, — from 
the Bellini to Palma Vecchio, from Tiziano to Tiepolo. 
Such is the feast of loveliness which the province 
offers to the traveler, and which it has been my 
pleasant duty to set forth in these pages. Accuracy 
I have striven to maintain, without diffuseness or un- 
necessary detail, repeating only so much of the history 
and distinctive traits of each school and master, giving 
only so much description of the leading works, as may 
enable the reader to grasp their true significance and 
beauty. "He who would comprehend the Italians 
of the Renaissance," said Symonds, "must study their 
art. . . . Not only is painting the art in which Italians, 
among all the nations of the world, stand unapproach- 
ably alone, but it is also the one that best enables us 
to gauge their genius at the time when they impressed 
their culture on the rest of Europe. In the history of 
the Italian intellect, painting takes the same rank as 
that of sculpture in Greece." — It may be that I 
should apologize for intruding the lists of the principal 
works in the great galleries of Padua, Vicenza, Ve- 
rona, and Brescia; but the stay-at-home reader can 
easily skip those paragraphs, and to the others they 
will afford an enlightening conception of the delights 
offered by those respective cities. 



PREFACE XV 

Fascinating, however, as are the countless artistic 
masterpieces and the picturesque architectural dress 
of these towns of the Veneto, interesting as are their 
historical and literary relics and associations, there is 
still more to interest the stranger, in the natural 
scenery of their settings and countrysides, and the 
marked diversity of their appearance, customs, and 
inhabitants. Let no one associate them, because they 
are plain-towns, with the ideas of sameness or mono- 
tony. The plain of the Veneto is so narrowed between 
the Alps and the sea that the serrated mountain-ridges 
ever loom vast and grim before the eyes, fancifully 
backgrounding the towered city, or the rich cham- 
paign, dotted with glistening Venetian villas and om- 
nipresent campanili; while to the west of Padua the 
landscape is further beautified by the far-seen chains 
of the Euganean and Berici Hills. Every district has its 
distinctive natural characteristics and charm, — from 
the Veronese with its battlemented medieval strong- 
holds, the Polesine with its numerous little walled 
cities at the feet of the Euganei, and the Trevisan 
Marches with their mighty rivers and high-perched 
castles, to strange Friuli with its dark blanket of for- 
est. The towns themselves display marked divers- 
ities, in their picturesque piazzas dominated by grand 
old churches and palaces, their looming medieval 
towers, their neighboring mountain-summits, and the 
generally present castle of the bygone signori, glower- 
ing down from its adjacent eminence. 

Among all those cities that owned the sovereignty of 
Venice, two only are left without these pages : Bergamo 
and Crema were for a time Venetian, it is true, but are 
omitted because they were much more identified with 
Lombardy, of which province they form integral parts, 
being but a few miles distant from, and long governed 



xvi PREFACE 

by, its capital, Milan, whose shadow has lain upon 
them all the centuries. They would properly, there- 
fore, take their places, and I hope will at some future 
date, in a volume dealing with that region of the 
Sforzas and the Visconti; which would also include 
captivating Cremona, and the glorious Mantua of 
the princely Gonzaghi. 

The untraveled reader may wonder, though the 
voyageur will not, why I have taken pains to mention 
the names and qualities of many of the inns that enter- 
tained me upon these sojourns. But it is unquestion- 
able that there is no one piece of information so valu- 
able to the success and comfort of a traveler, and so 
eagerly sought for from his confreres, as judgment 
founded upon personal experience of the hotels in a 
district or city to which he may at any future date 
pay a visit. At the risk, therefore, of criticism from the 
few who are inclined to seek for base motives, but in 
order to be of assistance to those who will yet travel 
through Venetia, I have given the names and good 
points of the hostelries that afforded me comfort and 
fair service, without any knowledge of the errand 
upon which I was bound. Even in the smallest places, 
nearly everywhere through the Veneto, good treat- 
ment can be obtained for the traveler who is willing 
to put up with simplicity and eat in the Italian mode; 
it is only a question of knowing which albergo to 
repair to, — as it is of knowing which hotel among the 
many in the larger cities. 

If my descriptions of the design of the larger towns 
be supplemented by the purchase of the cheap local 
maps, or by references to the fine plans contained in 
Baedeker's Northern Italy, the reader will follow 
my movements and observations with greater clear- 
ness, and the visitor upon the spot will have the pleas- 



PREFACE xvii 

ure of hunting out for himself every object worth 
seeing, without the objectionable aid of native guides. 
The Baedeker's possession is advisable, of course, for 
more reasons than this ; since the present volume is not 
adaptable to usurp all its functions as a guidebook, 
but rather to supplement its very condensed and lim- 
ited information, — not only in the way of omissions, 
but particularly in the various realms that it has no 
space to enter. 

My thanks are due to the excellent Commendatore 
Alinari, for the kind permission which enables me 
properly to illustrate this book. Some of the districts, 
however, — the Polesine, Trevisan Marches, and 
most of Friuli, — have been photographed still less 
than they have been described; and there it was neces- 
sary to take some views of my own, as best I could 
with the poor film furnished in Italy. My thailks are 
due also to a number of local savants and connoisseurs, 
besides those herein mentioned, who drew for my 
assistance upon their accumulated stores of art-know- 
ledge and archaeology. 

Above all, I acknowledge with a full heart my deep 
indebtedness to the wife whose enthusiasm first in- 
spired, then supported me in the heavy task, during 
these three years of continuous study, travel, and la- 
bor; without whose inestimable aid in the researching 
and annotation of hundreds of volumes, the word 
"Finis" would probably never have been written. 

E. R. W. 

Venice, July 1, 1911. 



CONTENTS 

I. THE BRENTA AND THE PALACE OF STRA . . 3 
II. PADUA THE LEARNED 28 

III. PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 62 

IV. VICENZA THE PALATIAL ...... 97 

V. BASSANO, CITTADELLA, AND CASTELFRANCO . 138 

VI. TREVISO AND THE VILLA GIACOMELLI . . 177 

VII. FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 224 

VIII. UDINE AND CIVIDALE 271 

IX. VERONA LA DEGNA . . . . . . .322 

X. VERONA LA MARMORINA 351 

XI. BRESCIA THE BRAVE .418 

XII. BRESCIA LA FERREA 454 

XIII. MONTAGNANA, ESTE, AND MONSELICE . . 497 

XIV. ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA . . .540 
INDEX 589 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Udine. Piazza Vittorio Emanuele .... Frontisjnece r 

Map 3 / 

Stra. The Rotal Villa 8 *^ 

Stra. The Grand Hall, Royal Villa 24/ 

Padua. Basilica of San Antonio, with the Statue of ^ 

Gattamelata. (Donatello) 40^ 

Padua. Bas Relief, St. Anthony recalling to Life 

a Youth to prove the Innocence of his Father. 

(G. Campagna) 56 

Padua. Altar with Bronzes. (Donatello) . . .72 
VicENZA. Palazzo della Ragione. (Palladio) . . . 98 ^ 
VicENZA. Madonna and Saints, in the Church of San 

Stefano. (Palma Vecchio) 104 '/ 

ViCENZA. Garden of Palazzo Quirini 112 1' 

Vicenza. Baptism of Christ, in the Church of S. Corona. 

(Giovanni Bellini) 120 ' 

Vicenza. Palazzo da Schio, formerly known as the Casa 

Aurea or Ca d' Oro (The Golden House) . . . 128^1 
Vicenza. Villa Rotonda by Palladio and Scamozzi . 136 

Vicenza. Public Museum 136 ' 

Varese. General View of the Monte Sacro . . . 138 ^ 



xxii ILLUSTRATIONS 

Vakese. Church of Santa Makia del Monte and the 

Last Chapel 142 

Bassano. The River Brenta with the Wooden Bridge 146 ^ 
Bassano. Piazza Vittorio Emanuele and Church of 

St. John Baptist 146 ^ 

Bassano. The City Wall .150^ 

*Bassano. The Western River Bank 154 ^ 

Marostica. View of Ancient Walls and Castle . . 158 V 

CiTTADELLA. ThE BaSSANO GaTE AND ViEW OF THE WaLLS 162 ' 

Castelfranco. Remains of the Old Castle of the 
Twelfth Century 166 ^ 

Castelfranco. Madonna and Child with Saints. 
(Giorgione) 170 ^ 

CONEGLIANO. GATEWAY TO OlD ToWN. — CaSTLE HiLL IN 

Background . . . 194 '^ 

Treviso. Piazza dei Signori . 194 » 

Treviso. Annunciation. (Tiziano) 208 v 

*Maser. Villa Giacomelli. Central Pavilion . . 214^ 
Maser. Villa Giacomelli. Entrance, with Fountain 

AND Little Temple . '214 j 

Maser. Villa Giacomelli. Detail of Wall. (Paolo 

Veronese) 220 '' 

Udine. Palazzo Comunale. Town Hall — Fifteenth 

AND Sixteenth Centuries 234 ' 

CiviDALE. San Peltrudis. Early Lombard Sculptures 274 
Verona. Old Castle Bridge 326 . 



ILLUSTRATIONS xxiii 

Verona. Church of Santa Maria in Organo (St. Mary's 

OF THE Organ) 326 ^ 

Verona. The River Adige from the Ponte Navi . . 340 ^ 

Verona. Church of St. Anastasia 350 " 

Verona. The Virgin and Child Enthroned. (Girolamo 

DAI LiBRi) 366 

Verona. Altar Triptych in Church of San Zeno 

Maggiore. (Andrea Mantegna) 380 

Verona. Tomb of Romeo and Juliet 394 

Verona. View in the Giusti Gardens 406 " 

SoAVE. The Castle and Wall, looking Northward . 414 '' 
Brescia. Palazzo Municipale. (Fromentone da Brescia) 440 ^' 
Brescia. The Cross of St. Helena. (In the Museutm of 

Christian Art) 490 ^ 

Battaglia. a Farm on the Canal 540 ' 

Battaglia. The Castle of St. Helena .... 548 
Near Battaglia. The Castle of Cattajo with Moat and 

Bridge 558''' 

Arqua. a Peasant's House '. 568 

Arqua. Parish Church and Petrarch's Tomb . . . 568' 
Arqua. The House of Petrarch 582 



The reproductions marked with an asterisk (*) are from photographs 
by the author. All others are by Fratelli Alinari, Florence, and are used 
by their courteous permission. 



PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 



PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 



CHAPTER I 

THE BRENTA AND THE PALACE OF STRA 

Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee. 
And was the safeguard of the West; the worth 
Of Venice did not fall below her birth, — 
Venice, the eldest child of Liberty. — 
And what if she has seen those glories fade. 
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; 
Yet shall some tribute of respect be paid 
When her long life has reached its final day. 

— Wordsworth. 

The steamer was pushing her prow swiftly through 
the still, wide waters of the Lagoon, as we sat upon her 
after-deck looking backward at the receding domes 
and towers of Venice. Over the blue, mirroring ex- 
panse they rose, more dimly now, arched gloriously by 
the still bluer dome of the Italian sky. For months 
we had been living amongst them, living over again 
their wonderful bygone centuries of strife and tri- 
umph: from the ruins of Torcello we had watched in 
fancy the Queen of the Sea once again build herself 
from out that primitive confederation of lagoon-girt 
isles, whose capital shifted from one beach to another, 
until it came at last from Malamocco to rest upon that 
Rivo Alto which centres the Venice of to-day; with 
Pietro Orseolo the Great we had sailed in her first 
grand fleet of warships, to impose the rule of the Re- 
public upon the shores of the Adriatic; with Domenico 
Michiel we had crested the Mediterranean to relieve 



4 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the Christian Kingdom of Jerusalem from assailing 
heathen, conquer the beautiful isles of the Levant, and 
carry home saintly bodies from violated sepulchres; 
with Enrico Dandolo we had accompanied the Cru- 
saders to Zara and the capture of Constantinople, 
and seen the sway of Venice extend from that wealthy 
capital over a hundred fair cities of the Orient; with 
Michele Steno we had watched the Mistress of the 
Sea turn at last from her own domain and begin the 
subjugation of the Italian mainland ; we had wondered 
as Padua fell into her power, despoiled of the princely 
Delia Carrara, and Vicenza and Verona, from the 
kingdom of the ruined Scaligers, then Brescia and 
Bergamo, from the falling Visconti, and Rovigo and 
Adria from the enfeebled Estensi, — until that beau- 
tiful rich territory thenceforth known as the Veneto, 
bore the winged lion of St. Mark from the Adda on the 
west and the Po on the south, to Aquileia and Udine 
in the far northeast. 

We had seen in these memories the Turk come to 
Constantinople, and despoil Venice one by one of her 
possessions over the sea; but only more firmly had she 
held to thaf fair kingdom of North Italy, attaching 
the people to her by gifts of public freedom and bene- 
volence, and the adornment of their towns, until not 
even all the great powers of Europe, leagued against 
her by the Pact of Cambrai, could sever those cities 
from their willing allegiance. Unto the end brought by 
the French Revolution three centuries later, they re- 
mained to Venice, the last but richest product of all 
her conquests, when all the others had departed. 

Then it was, while the League of Cambrai assailed, 
while the Turk was despoiling Venice over-sea, and 
the Veneto alone remained true to her, that in the 
decline of her physical power there had blossomed 



THE BRENTA 5 

forth like a wondrous orchid her aesthetic culture of 
the Renaissance. We had seen the Bellini bringing 
to perfection their marvelous canvases, and the still 
greater school developing with Giorgione, Titian, and 
Jacopo Palma the elder, in a marble city now re- 
splendent with bright frescoes on every house fagade, 
with beautified interiors luxuriant in her own fine 
sculpture and glassware, and the cloths and precious 
ornaments of the East. 

Then it was, too, that with that sudden keen appre- 
ciation of the beautiful, and great increase of luxury, 
we had seen the whole external life of Venice alter, 
and her nobles turn from their commercial strife 
of centuries to the ownership of landed estates. The 
city had lost her commercial primacy with the dis- 
covery of the new route to India around the Cape; 
trading became neither lucrative nor fashionable; 
and we had watched the famous old houses one by one 
turn sadly to the Veneto, and invest their remaining 
wealth in lands and country villas. We had seen the 
territory of Padua, the whole eastern Veneto to the 
foothills of the Alps, become filled with the nobles' 
wide-spreading estates, and dotted from end to end 
with their Renaissance chateaux, in which they passed 
the summers and autumns in villeggiatura. 

Thus had a new fashionable existence arisen; and 
the inevitable rivalry for the possession of the fairest 
villas increased amongst the patricians, until many 
families actually beggared themselves in building and 
entertaining beyond their means. It was a curious 
corner of history and architecture, about which many 
people know little or nothing, — this strange trans- 
ference of the Venetian nobles to the mainland in the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It had hap- 
pened to strike my interest exceptionally, in descend- 



6 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ing the eras of Venetian history, — and it was the 
reason why we were now en voyage to the mouth of the 
river Brenta. 

Four days before our departure we had been wan- 
dering through the mazes of the extensive Museo 
Civico, in its beautiful modern-romanesque palace 
near the head of the Grand Canal; and in a little room 
on the top floor, not always visited, we had come upon 
an extraordinary, perfect model of a giant villa of the 
Renaissance. It was the actual building-model of 
the great chateau erected in those days of rivalry by 
the Pisani family, on the banks of the Brenta, — the 
so-called Palace of Stra. As we gazed upon its pro- 
totype in miniature, I could well understand how it 
came to eclipse all other patrician villas, — to such 
an extent that no attempt was ever made to surpass it. 
Looking at its vast extent of halls, courts, corridors, 
and suites, imperial in space and number, our minds 
actually failed to comprehend how a single private 
family could have accomplished it. Nothing better 
exemplifies the hugeness of those bygone fortunes of 
Venetian nobles; but, gazing at it, we longed to see 
the structure itself. 

The Brenta became naturally the first seat of the 
patricians' country-houses, since it is the stream 
nearest to Venice; upon and along it ran always the 
highway to Padua and the west, before the Austrians 
constructed the modern railway-bridge. It flows a 
little to the north of Padua, and thence easterly into 
the Lagoon at Fusina, some four miles south of the 
present railroad. It was inevitable that in former days 
the first and chief line of noble villas should arise 
along this watery highway; and there the Pisani 
erected their palace. Communication along the an- 
cient route is still maintained, by a small steamer from 



THE BRENTA 7 

the Piazzetta to Fusina, and an electric tramway 
thence upon the old highroad to Padua. I had never 
thought of pursuing this route before; but it would 
be a new and pleasant way of reaching Padua. 

In going to the latter city I was but starting upon 
the execution of a plan I had had in mind for years, 
and for which the visit to Stra was an appropriate 
opening. For years I had thought of some day 
traveling through the length and breadth of the great 
northern plain of Italy, — that richest section of the 
inhabited world, for which nations have fought since 
time immemorial, — and inspecting carefully one by 
one its many illustrious cities, which heretofore I had 
seen but hurriedly. During our stay in Venice, and 
our living over again her centuries of glory, this de- 
sire had crystallized into the first aim of visiting that 
hinterland, fairest and chief portion of the Lombard 
Plain, which the Republic had so forcefully made her 
own, and beautified with her wealth and genius. So 
the spring had passed, the summer had come with its 
flooding golden light, and I was on my way at last to 
the Veneto. What more fitting, I thought, than that 
I should first observe the scenes of the Sea Queen's 
primal conquests on the mainland, follow her historic 
highway of so many generations, and view the landed 
estates and villas to which her patricians first re- 
moved. Then would come Padua, appropriately, the 
first prominent city to fall to her victorious arms. 

It was a beautiful July day. We were happy with 
anticipations and the lovely scenes about us, while 
the steamer moved evenly, silently, through the still 
water. Gazing at those white domes and campanili, 
ever receding, sinking, our thoughts had been coursing 
again over the marvelous centuries that had produced 
them, and held them safe, inviolate, from all assault 



8 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

or rapine. Here and there out of the wide blue mirror 
rose other walls and towers, upon islets small and large, 
— medieval monasteries, churches, and public insti- 
tutions. How many times, I thought, had this same 
path across the Lagoon been followed by Venetians, 
and by all the illustrious travelers who sought their 
city's charms, for a thousand years before railroads 
were dreamed of! What a procession it must have 
been in those old days, of craft of every size and 
style and beauty, passing each other where now the 
steamer cruised in solitude! 

The low-lying mainland, at first hardly distinguish- 
able over the blue but for the trees that dotted it, had 
now come close at hand, revealing the narrow mouth 
of the little Brenta, but no sign of human habitations 
save one or two buildings on the bank. Fusina was 
hidden behind the woods on the right. The steamer 
came alongside a quay; we debarked through a very 
modern shed, and found the electric train of two hand- 
some new coaches waiting on the other side. I blessed 
my fortune that the old, rickety, smoky steam-tram, 
of whose discomforts I had heard, had gone the way of 
the past. In another minute we were rolling rapidly 
up the valley of the Brenta, with the stream on our 
left, and a flat, wooded countryside to right. 

What a difference this from the old-fashioned 
method of ascending the river, which the Venetians 
followed for twelve hundred years, before electricity 
or rails were thought of! Evelyn spoke of it in 'his 
trip of 1645: "We changed our barge and were then 
drawne by horses thro' the river Brenta, a strait 
chanell as even as a line for 20 miles, the country on 
both sides deliciously adorned with country villas and 
gentlemen's retirements." ^ And Lady Morgan wrote 

^ John Evelyn, Diary and Letters. 



THE BRENTA 9 

of her trip of 1819: "It is a delightful thing to roll 
along the banks of the Brenta — on a fine, bright, 
sunny, holiday morning ! — The canal lying through 
a laughing, lovely, fertile champagne; — the elegant 
marble villas to the left, with their Palladian fagades, 
their green verandas, and parterres of orange trees, 
inducing the belief that they are still lorded by the 
Foscarini and the Bembi of the great and free days of 
Republican Venice!" ^ While Byron rhapsodized of 
the journey by eventide: — 

Gently flows 
The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instil 
The odoriferous purple of a new-born rose. 
Which streams upon her stream, and glassed within it glows. 

Two companions were going with me as far as Padua, 
destined to accompany me also while there; but when 
I should go on to Vicenza and Bassano, it must be 
alone. It was a pleasure to all three of us to drink in 
with our eyes the soft greenery of the grass and trees, 
after being so long immured amongst the stones of 
Venice. On leaving the coast behind, wide cultivated 
fields appeared, white stuccoed farmhouses glowing 
brilliantly in the hot sun, churches, little villages, and 
distant campanili ever rising above the level of the 
distance, — that distinctive mark of Veneto scenery. 
The highway accompanied us, — together with the 
river, — a white, dusty, hard, macadamized road, 
smooth as asphalt, laden with mules and peasants, 
and carts drawn by creamy oxen or diminutive don- 
keys. It was almost as thickly settled as an English 
village-street, and the tram made a stop every five 
minutes at some larger aggregation of buildings. 

Soon we came to a stretch along the river, where 
the first villas of the Venetian patricians burst upon 

^ Lady Morgan, Italy, vol. II. 



10 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

our view. Alas, they were mostly, as we soon found, 
in a condition of sad decay. Nearly all of them had 
been plastered outside with stucco; and this, neg- 
lected and unpainted for ages, crumbling and falling 
off in places, joined with the close-shuttered and 
boarded windows, and the overgrown gardens, to 
give them an aspect desolate and melancholy. Along 
the river banks they extended, on both sides, mile 
after mile, uniform in their large size. Renaissance 
lines, rococo decorations, and abandoned, ruinous ap- 
pearance. Even when they were of stone, or enlivened 
by modern plebeian tenants, the decay, the weedy, 
tangled grounds, everything about them, emphasized 
the sad contrast with what must once have been.^ 

This, then, was all that was left of that extraordin- 
ary, artificial, highly cultured and peculiar social ex- 
istence, which was the first of its sort in Europe, which 
set the mark that the French and English nobility later 
sought to attain; that first return to the soil by a whole 
polished upper class, after the dangers of country-life 
in the Dark Ages had been removed. Here were the 
boarded up, .mouldering salons and ball-rooms where 
they had played, and practiced the art of conversa- 
tion, and danced into the small hours; here were the 
densely overgrown gardens once so carefully ornate, 
with statues still upreared but dilapidated and forlorn, 
where they had walked and whispered gallantries in 

^ Some of these were constructed by Palladio, and by other famous 
architects and artists. On the very brink of the " bello ed allegrissimo 
fiume," — as Cardinal Bembo designated the Brenta, in a letter from his 
Paduan villa — still rises Palladio's Palazzo Foscari, which Giacomo 
Zanella thus describes in his Vita di Andrea Palladio: "On the ground- 
floor are the rooms for the servizio della casa ; by two magnificent stair- 
cases at the sides one ascends to the Ionic loggia; the great hall is made 
in the shape of a cross; in the corners are commodious chambers, and 
overhead, smaller bedrooms." 



THE BRENTA 11 

the cool of the afternoon; here were the ruined casinos, 
pavilions, and summer-houses, where they had loved 
to contrast rusticity with silks and laces. 

It was not difficult to construct it all in the mind 
again, that so-long-past life that thought not of the 
morrow; repeopling these decadent edifices with the 
gay creatures who once made them shine, refilling 
these mouldering mews with the horses and painted, 
swung carriages, that once occupied this same road 
at sunset with a procession of brilliant coloring. These 
villas were beautiful then; as Mrs. Piozzi — Doctor 
Johnson's Mrs. Thrale — indicates to us in the 
bright commentary on her travels, by her enthusiastic 
remark upon "the sublimity of their architecture — 
the magnificence of their orangeries, the happy con- 
struction of the cool arcades, and general air of festiv- 
ity which breathes upon the banks of this truly wizard 
stream, planted with dancing, not weeping willows." ^ 

But through the tall trees of a park upon our right 
there now suddenly flashed upon our eyes the vision 
of a distant, white. Renaissance fagade, seen down a 
long green vista; then we turned a corner, ran swiftly 
along a high park-wall, and passed before a building 
of proportions so imposing and monumental, that we 
knew it could be nothing else than the Palace of the 
Pisani. Our conviction was confirmed a minute later 
by the stoppage of the tram, and the calling out of the 
station of Stra. We debarked in a village-street, be- 
fore a solitary inn, with naught but scattered dwell- 
ings in sight. 

^ Mrs. Piozzi, Glimpses of Italian Society in the 18th Century. In 
Shakespeare's day Lady Arundel, wife of the noted art-collecting earl, 
and Sir Henry Wotton, who was thrice ambassador to Venice, 1604-25, 
both had splendid villas upon the river; and their example was followed 
by innumerable Englishmen of high rank during the two succeeding cen- 
turies. — Vide L. Pearsall Smith, Life and Letters of Sir Henry Wotton. 



12 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Leaving our luggage at the locanda, we walked back 
the half-mile to the palace, along the highway, with 
the Brenta close upon our right. Along the farther 
side of the stream stretched more Renaissance villas 
of goodly size, all boarded up, shuttered and decaying, 
with the invariable baroque statues looking sadly out 
from the tangles of shrubbery. But on our left soon 
rose the high stone wall of the park of the Pisani, 
and through an ornamental gateway at its corner 
we looked down a beautiful, far, green vista to the 
shining white fagade of which we had first caught 
a glimpse. Grand as the building was, larger and 
handsomer than any villa we had seen, it was but 
the stables, or mews, of the establishment; so we 
were informed by the people of the adjacent farm- 
house, — and were directed to follow the park- wall 
to the palace entrance. 

Another five minutes' walk brought us to the villa, 
whose mighty fagade looked directly upon the high- 
way and the river. Its magnificent proportions and 
harmonious lines, radiantly white in the rays of the 
summer sun', dazzled and overwhelmed us as we stood 
gazing upward. The noble delineations were genu- 
inely Palladian; a grand central pavilion, three stories 
in height, was thrust forward from the mass, holding 
Corinthian half-columns running the height of the 
two upper stories, and supporting a pediment with a 
beautiful stuccoed frieze of wreaths and putti; the 
long wings, of two stories, ended in smaller pavilions 
of simpler design, with a quiet rusticated basement, 
and on the upper floor, Ionic pilasters in couples be- 
tween the heavily corniced windows; while on the 
gables of the pavilions and along the balustrades 
topping the wings, rose against the sky-line many 
statues and decorative urns; the whole exhibiting a 



THE BRENTA 13 

harmony of lines, an accurate proportion of openings 
to solid, and an absence of over-ornamentation, that 
were charming and impressive beyond words. 

Large dark clouds had been hastily gathering in the 
sky for one of those heavy thunder-storms so frequent 
here in the summer, and we entered the simple main 
doorway of the palace as the first large drops began to 
fall. Though the portal was open there was no person 
in sight. The central hall ran through to the back of 
the villa, forming in the middle a double colonnade 
between open courts at the sides. We walked through 
it to the rear doorway, where again the sight of the 
gleaming ecurie greeted us, rising majestically behind 
a long stretch of lawn and flower-gardens, framed by 
the woods on each hand. The black sky now vomited 
thunderbolts and a rush of hail, that was soon driving 
into the courts pellets as large as fair-sized cherries. 
It is just such tropical storms that the peasants dread 
more than anything else that can happen, annihilating 
in a few minutes, as they often do, the labors of a year. 

We shuddered irresistibly, then, realizing the ter- 
rible destruction that was happening about us, wiping 
out the means, the happiness, of scores, perhaps hun- 
dreds of families. For the poor Lombard peasant who 
owns or rents his farm — unsupported by a landlord 
— lives nowadays upon such a close margin between 
the usurer and ruin, that a single hailstorm like this 
one not only destroys his crops of the season, but 
effects his entire downfall. Only those can survive 
who live upon the mezzeria, or sharing-system, with 
a good landlord to tide them over the year, at his own 
expense. Such are the countless, unknown tragedies 
of the plain. 

The keeper of the palace, which is now a national 
monument, appeared when the storm was over, fifteen 



14 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

minutes later, explaining that he had been occu- 
pied in closing the windows ; and he proceeded to 
conduct us over the piano nobile. We went first to the 
great central salon, or ball-room, directly over the 
colonnade between the courts. Its dimensions and 
beauty were truly amazing: it is two stories in height, 
with imitation-stucco decorations in the way of pi- 
lasters, cornices, and mouldings, all cleverly painted 
with realistic shadows, and with a balcony around the 
upper story, having a splendid, open-work, bronze 
railing. Its chief attraction, however, is the huge 
ceiling-painting by Tiepolo. As from a glorious azure 
heaven, of whitest clouds and infinite depth, angels 
and beings of the upper world flock to chant the 
glorification of the Pisani. While not a great work, 
and lacking in only too many points as a first-class 
fresco, it fulfills the one supreme function of a ceiling- 
picture, — it is decorative; and its bright, joyous 
colors, its sense of space and freedom, illumine the 
whole hall with their gayety. 

Thence we were conducted on an interminable 
round of the chambers of the piano nobile, which have 
the rare distinction of still containing much of their 
old furniture. We saw a billiard-room filled with in- 
different paintings, and rooms and suites decorated 
in all sorts of usual and unusual styles of the decad- 
ent Renaissance ; we saw the royal bed once occupied 
by the Emperor Maximilian of Austria, when he 
stayed here for a time, the suite and bedroom used 
by Victor Emmanuel II in the strenuous days of the 
Risorgimento, — and, finally, the gilded, lavishly deco- 
rated chamber and couch of the great Napoleon, when 
he was accomplishing the downfall of the ancient 
Republic of Venice. 

Quite as one would expect, this chamber and couch 



THE BRENTA 15 

of the soldier of fortune, gi-devant bourgeois, were very 
much more elaborate and ornate than any of the 
others; they had been made over and redecorated in 
the manner of the First Empire, — beautifully, it must 
be said, — even to the embroidering of the imperial 
crown and letter "N." I could not help but think, as 
I gazed upon that pillow pressed by the conqueror, 
of the vast upheaval just then coming to the whole 
civilized world from the one head that had there 
reclined. 

We did not have time to visit the now empty mews, 
once filled with scores of blooded horses and silken 
carriages, nor to walk along the inviting shady avenues 
of the park; but were obliged to hurry to catch our 
train for Padua. Again we coursed along the high- 
road, through the densely populated and cultivated 
countryside, past village after village; and, as Hazlitt 
said of the same road in 1826, "the whole way was 
cultivated beauty and smiling vegetation. Not a rood 
of land lay neglected, nor did there seem the smallest 
interruption to the bounty of nature or the industry 
of man. For miles before you, behind you, and on 
each side, the trailing vines hung over waving corn- 
fields (wheat). Every foot and acre of this immense 
plain is wrought up to a pitch of neatness and pro- 
ductiveness equal to that of a gentleman's kitchen- 
garden. The whole is literally, and without any kind 
of exaggeration, one continued and delightful gar- 
den." 1 

Mendelssohn, on his first visit here four years later, 
wrote home with delight: "Venetian villas were occa- 
sionally visible from the road; our way led past houses, 
trees and gardens like a park. The whole country had 
a festive air, as if a prince were expected to make his 

^ William Hazlitt, Notes of a Journey through France and Italy. 



16 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

grand entry, and the vine-branches with their rich 
purple grapes, hanging in festoons from the trees, 
made the most lovely of all festive wreaths." ^ 

But my thoughts turned now to the wonderful old 
city that we were approaching. I had already visited 
Padua on several occasions, during fifteen years past, 
but each time casually and not fully, seeing sufficient 
really only to whet the desire for a completer under- 
standing of her treasures of art and history. Padua is 
truly one of the greatest towns of Italy, and always has 
been, — in historic accomplishments, in size and power, 
in Renaissance culture, in science, literature, and art. 

Her importance began in very early ages. The 
founder is said by the inhabitants, who thoroughly 
believe the statement of Virgil, to have been Antenor, 
the brother of Priam of Troy, at the head of a band 
of Trojan survivors. (How those confreres of Hector 
did duty as founders of Italian towns!) In reality 
the town was first Etruscan, then Celtic; and after the 
Celts' subjugation, about 200 B.C., became very power- 
ful under Roman rule, being the second largest city in 
the whole peninsula. The Latin writer Strabo relates 
that she was able to send forth an army of two hundred 
thousand, — of course much exaggerated, but signi- 
ficant of her former size. Livy, who was born and 
died in Padua, says that her confines once extended 
to the sea. With the decline of Roman power, as was 
inevitable with all the cities situated upon the plain, 
she suffered attack and rapine from one savage in- 
vader after another, being burned to the ground by 
Attila, by the Lombards in 601, and by the Huns 
about 900; until very little was left of her former 
amplitude, and naught of her magnificence. Well did 
Dante cry: 

^ Mendelssohn's Letters from Italy and Switzerland. 



THE BRENTA 17 

Where 't is the lot of tyranny to mourn. 

There Heaven's stern justice lays chastising hand 

On Attila, who was the Scourge of Earth.^ 

In the succeeding Middle Ages Padua gradually 
raised her head again, struggled with the other towns 
against the emperors, and instituted a free, republi- 
can form of government, building for its use the huge 
and celebrated civic structure called the Palazzo della 
Ragione. In 1222 she joined the march of learning by 
founding her great university, which after seven cen- 
turies of proud distinction still stands among the 
foremost of the world. 

Then came the day of that extraordinary and never- 
to-be-forgotten tyrant, Ezzelino da Romano, the first 
of his kind, — who has left his bloody traces, not only 
in Padua, but over the whole of the Veneto. Unique 
amongst three centuries of bloodthirsty Italian des- 
pots, for the extent to which his cruelty exceeded all 
others', his career of over thirty years' unbridled con- 
quest and excesses is the best proof of how such ty- 
rants ruled by fear alone. Originally but a small 
noble of the Trevisan marches, he became by his fight- 
ing ability captain of the imperial forces in Lombardy, 
recognized as such by Frederick II, and honored by 
him with his daughter's hand. With such armed 
power behind Ezzelino, gathered from the Ghibelline 
towns, he proceeded, nominally in the name of the 
Emperor but really for his own aggrandizement, to 
subdue and lay waste one city after another that would 
not voluntarily submit, until his sway extended from 
the Po and the Adda to high Pieve di Cadore in the 
Alps. 

Every step in this path of conquest was marked by 
bloody cruelties that to us to-day seem beyond hu- 

^ Dante's Inferno, canto xii; Gary's translation. 



18 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

man deeds. Padua was one of the first cities to fall 
under his assault, and one of the greatest sufferers 
from his bloodthirstiness. The inhabitants had un- 
wisely pulled down, in their anger, the old dwelling 
of his family, — some remains of which still exist in 
the Via S. Lucia; and this he revenged by a sack and 
massacre extending for many days. After that he 
impressed into his army the major portion of the able- 
bodied men, constructed a formidable fortress for 
his own residence, and built eight large prisons, 
which he kept crammed to overflowing by all persons 
of any sex or age for whom he could conceive the 
slightest animosity. Although these imprisoned thou- 
sands were constantly depleted by appalling tortures 
and executions, new unfortunates were as swiftly 
hurried into their places. Later on, for a revolt against 
him by the Paduans in his absence, Ezzelino seized, 
tortured, and executed the whole body of their com- 
patriots in his army, some eleven thousand in number. 
Such was the monster whom Symonds has well 
described, as "a small, wiry man, with terror in his 
face and enthusiasm for evil in his heart, who lived 
a foe to luxury, cold to the pathos of children, dead 
to the enchantments of women. His one passion was 
the greed of power, heightened by the lust for blood." ^ 
Dante placed him in the lowest circle of Hell beside 
Attila : — 

These are the souls of tyrants who were given 
To blood and rapine. Here they wail aloud 
Their merciless wrongs. — That brow. 
Whereon the hair so jetty clustering hangs. 
Is Ezzelino! ^ 

And Ariosto spoke of him in the Orlando FuriosOt 
canto XXXIII, as — 

^ J. A. Symonds, Age of the Despots. 

' Dante's Inferno, canto xn; Gary's translation, 



THE BRENTA 19 

Fierce Ezzelino, that most inhuman lord. 
Who shall be deemed by man a child of Hell, 
And work such evil, thinning with the sword 
Who in Ansonia's wasted cities dwell." 

Ezzelino was defeated at last, in 1259, by a combina- 
tion of the many enemies whom he had raised all over 
Italy; he was made a prisoner, though wounded, but 
tore off his bandages until he bled to death. His 
memory has never ceased, among the peasantry of the 
Veneto, to be the subject of devilish myths, and the 
mention of his name is sufficient to quell an obstrep- 
erous child. 

Ezzelino's fall signaled the time of Padua's great- 
est power and prosperity since Roman days. Relieved 
and joyous, free and self-governing, she plunged into 
the building and adornment of those other splendid 
structures that distinguish her to-day, — the Church 
of S. Antonio, the Baptistery, the Churches of the 
Arena and the Eremetani. In 1318 the Paduan Guelfic 
captain, Jacopo della Carrara, was elected by his com- 
patriots as "Capitano del Popolo"; he assumed ab- 
solute power, and founded the subsequent dynasty 
of despots of that name. For a while they lost their 
city to the Della Scala of Verona, but soon recovered 
it. They were a distinctly manly and generous race, 
maintaining their authority by an upbuilding of the 
city, and the happiness which they conferred. There 
are few finer figures of those times than that unfortun- 
ate Francesco della Carrara, who was despoiled of 
his power by Gian Galeazzo Visconti of Milan in 1388, 
and his son Francesco Novello, who experienced a 
series of romantic adventures in his attempts to regain 
the throne. These finally succeeded in 1390, wheft on 
the dark night of June 19 he s'^am the river, entered 
the town alone, without forces, and was welcomed 



20 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

with such joy by the citizens that they rose in arms 
and expelled the Visconti garrison. 

In 1405, after Gian Galeazzo's death, however, the 
Venetians, having successfully played off for some 
time the Carrara and the Visconti against each other, 
now seized Padua by treachery, and took Francesco 
and his sons in an iron cage to Venice, where they were 
strangled. Harsh as was this treatment of the des- 
pots, that of the people of Padua was such that she 
soon became one of the Republic's most loyal sub- 
jects; caressed, adorned, and prosperous under the 
sway of the doges, above all with assured peace, she 
carried the white Lion of St. Mark with pride unto 
the end. During the terrible war of the League of 
Cambrai, 1508-16, when the united great nations 
overwhelmed the Republic, and her towns departed 
from their allegiance, Padua remained true, and re- 
pelled with success the attack of the Emperor Maxi- 
milian's army, though it was a hundred thousand 
strong.^ 

But the jnost important events in the history of 
Padua lay outside of her politics, in the fields of sci- 
ence, religion, and art. Her great university has ever 
played the most prominent part in her life, drawing, 
as it has, for centuries, such multitudes of the first 
minds of Europe to its lecture-halls. Padua "ranks 
with Florence in the ardor with which she threw 
herself into the humanistic movement and devoted 
herself to the revival of the classical ideals, and recon- 
struction of the antique civilization. Her university, 
receiving students from both sides of the Alps, formed 

^ To those wishing a fuller account of Paduan annals, and to those mak- 
ing a long stay in the city, I recommend The Story of Padua by Cesare 
Foligno, in the Medieval Towns Series, which has been issued since this 
volume went to press; in it the town's history is accurately and elaborately 
narrated, and her manifold points of interest are intimately described. 



THE BRENTA 21 

at the beginning of the fifteenth century the centre 
of intellectual culture; nobles, poets, and philosophers 
spurring each other on in the work of research and 
exploration."^ 

Sir Philip Sidney, Sir Thomas Hoby, Fynes Mory- 
son, and many other prominent intellectual English- 
men of the Elizabethan Age, here perfected their edu- 
cation; and in the succeeding century it became a 
common thing for Oxford men to repair to Padua after 
their graduation. Thus was the Renaissance of learn- 
ing transplanted to Britain. Among the later pilgrims 
came Oliver Goldsmith, in 1755, earning his way on 
foot by playing the flute, and procuring by his labors 
at the University that degree of M.B. on which was 
founded his claim to the title of Doctor. 

Here it was that Petrarch came towards the end of 
his life, and made a home in the neighboring town 
of Arqua for his various collections, where his friendly 
protector, Jacopo II della Carrara, often journeyed to 
visit him; here it was that Torquato Tasso, long 
after, when "not yet turned seventeen, passed a pub- 
lic examination in canon and civil law, philosophy, 
and theology, with universal eulogy, and astonish- 
ment of that learned university "; ^ and in the fol- 
lowing year published his heroic poem "Rinaldo," 
the beginning of his fame; while Dante, in the course 
of his wanderings, found at Padua for some years 
a congenial residence, obtaining honors and susten- 
ance by lecturing in the University. The artist 
whom the latter met at Padua in 1306, with whom 
he formed an intimate friendship, and whom he often 
used to watch while at work, introduces us to the 
remarkable and early importance of the city as a 

^ M. Crutwell, Andrea Mantegna. 

* Mrs. TroUope, Homes and Haunts of the Italian Poets, ii, 113. 



22 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

centre of art: for it was Giotto himself. Dante's own 
comment shows the latter's position then : — 

O powers of man ! how vain your glory, nipt 
E'en in its height of verdure, if an age 
Less bright succeed not. Cimabue thought 
To lord it over painting's field; and now 
The cry is Giotto's, and his name eclipsed.* 

Padua was one of the first towns of Italy to enter 
with zeal into the new birth of Art; she called Niccolo 
and Giovanni Pisano to her as soon as they became 
famous, and Giotto as soon as he had made his genius 
known to the world; offering to the latter works of a 
size such as he was never elsewhere called upon to 
execute. He covered the huge walls of the Palazzo 
della Ragione with frescoes, — alas, now utterly de- 
stroyed; he painted, according to Vasari, "una bellis- 
sima capella" in the Church of S. Antonio, of which 
there remain now but questionable ruined fragments; 
and, last but chief, he lined the nave of the little 
church of Madonna dell' Arena with that marvelous 
series of frescoes depicting the lives of Christ and the 
Virgin, which have ever since remained the most im- 
portant product of pictorial art. ^ 

Following the time of Giotto, Padua called to her 
that great pair of Veronese painters, Altichieri da 
Zevio and Jacopo d'Avanzo, who surpassed not only 
all others of the fourteenth century, but sometimes 
even Giotto himself in lifelikeness and realism; that 
curious pair who so steadfastly labored together, about 
whom so little is known, and of whose extensive works 
so little is left us. 

But Padua, pushing on with zeal, began now to 
produce painters of her own: first, Giusto Padovano, 
who about 1378 filled her quaint little Romanesque 

^ Dante's Purgatorio, canto xi; Gary's translation. 



THE BRENTA 23 

baptistery, with that extraordinary series of New 
Testament pictures which still remain to make us 
wonder; then, in the early fifteenth century, the 
teacher Squarcione, who from a tailor made himself 
by long travel and study the founder of Padua's real 
school of art, training many scores of students by the 
process of copying from the antique sculpture of his 
collections. 

This process made the Paduan school almost the 
earliest to grasp the secret of rendering "tactile 
values,"^ enabling them to depict objects with real- 
istic solidity; it also gave them disagreeable manner- 
isms of stiffness and lack of beauty; but beyond, and 
forgetting all else, it produced for us that magnificent 
artist who was able, while seizing the truth of tactile 
value, to keep and develop his own sense of grace and 
color, who became Padua's greatest representative, 
and the foremost of his time in all north Italy — An- 
drea Mantegna. 

This profound genius, born at Vicenza in 1431, 
entered at the age of ten into the circle of Paduan 
students; at seventeen he began producing finished 
pictures; and, most fortunately, while yet a very 
young man, he made the acquaintance and friend- 
ship of that pioneer of Venetian beauty, Jacopo Bel- 
lini, whom Padua had called to her as she had so 
many others. Their intimacy is shown by the fact 
that Mantegna married Jacopo's daughter, in 1453. 
There can be no doubt, therefore, as to who saved 
Andrea from the stiffness and harshness general to the 
Paduan school, and aided and inspired him to the 
grace and glow of color which he later manifested. 
He may also have taken some of his opulent hues 
from the German painters, who, says Lord Lindsay, 

* This is Mr. Berenson's happy phrase. 



24 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

*' abounded at Padua about the middle of the fifteenth 
century; and it is to them, and their predecessors, if 
I mistake not, that Italy owes the first introduction 
of that rich coloring, exhibited as early as 1371 by 
Lorenzo Veneziano."^ 

About this same time, also, in 1444, Padua had 
summoned to her the Florentine sculptor Donatello, 
fresh from his triumphs by the Arno; he came with a 
circle of assistants, and proceeded, not only to orna- 
ment S. Antonio with a wonderful series of bronze 
statues, crucifixes, and bas-reliefs, but to model and 
cast the first lifesize equestrian statue made in bronze 
since ancient times. This was the likeness of Venice's 
condottiere-general, Gattamelata, which excited so 
much astonishment and marveling over the whole of 
Europe. There can be no doubt also that with such 
significant works going on about him, the young Man- 
tegna drew from them further inspiration and know- 
ledge. All fitted him for his coming triumph, when, 
employed with other assistants by Squarcione, some- 
time between 1453 and 1459, to decorate for the 
Ovetari family their chapel in the Church of the 
Eremetani, his six frescoes on the lives of Saints 
James and Christopher raised him at one bound to 
the supremacy of his day. Like the Brancacci chapel 
at Florence, which after 1428 became the resort of 
artists anxious to study the attainment of realism by 
Masaccio, so after 1458 did this chapel of the Ere- 
metani become the teacher of succeeding generations. 

It was with a deep longing to behold once more 
these exceptional relics of the Renaissance, that I 
looked eagerly forward as the electric train brought 
us closer to Padua's medieval walls. We had left 
the Brenta, turning southwestward, and were ap- 

* Lord Lindsay, Christian Art. 




STRA. THE GRAND HALL, ROYAL VILLA. 



THE BRENTA 25 

preaching the city at its northeastern corner. The 
rich plain in which Padua lies, now spread around us 
in its luxuriance of gardens, shrubbery; and massive 
trees, is backed immediately on the west by the 
Euganean Hills, — that outpost of the Alps which 
stretches so far to the south as to rise like a group of 
solitary islands from the sea. On the east lies the 
Lagoon, on the north the Brenta, on the south, at a 
further distance, the Po. Through this plain flows 
the Bacchiglione, from the Alps, along the northern 
side of the Euganean Hills, then southeastward into 
the Lagoon; and this is the stream which of old was 
the life of Padua, filtering through it and around it 
in a network of spreading canals, that mark the suc- 
cessive extensions of the city's moats. 

A glance at the map of the town reveals this fact 
quite clearly. In the centre one sees a small quadri- 
lateral, marked out by the two arms into which the 
Bacchiglione was first divided by the spade, to flow 
around the walls of the then little town and join again 
on the eastern side.^ And in the middle of this, the 
oldest portion of the city, one sees, as he would expect, 
the gathered buildings of the Duomo, the Baptistery, 
and the Palazzo del Capitanio, with their piazzas; 
while close at hand rise also the Municipio and Pal- 
azzo della Ragione, upon the ancient piazzas of the 
fruit and vegetable markets {dei Frutti and delle Erbe) . 
A very old highway runs through the centre from 
south to north, from the first-mentioned structures to 

1 In early times Padua was thus watered by the Bacchiglione alone; but 
after the warring Vicentines had once or twice diverted the course of that 
stream down its secondary channel, via Este and the Po, leaving the Pad- 
uans high and dry, and therefore forced to come to terms, the latter in 1314 
dug the still existing canal which brings the water of the Brenta, from 
Stra, into the fosses of the city. It was this which gave the direct water- 
communication with Venice. 



26 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the northern Roman gate of the Ponte MoHno; whence 
it continues through the medieval gateway of the 
Barriera Mazzini, ending eventually at the modern 
railway station. It is of various names in its different 
sections, the northern half having been formerly 
called Via Maggiore, and lately renamed after Dante. 

Around this oldest, central section one notes the 
successive extensions of the city's walls, as the place 
grew in size, marked by further deviations of the 
Bacchiglione for moat-purposes; there being thus 
added to the original town two sections on the south 
side, one on the east, and one on the north and west, 
outlining in all a space many times as large as the 
primordial. Within this large area, delimited still by 
the heavy wall and flowing fosse of the Middle Ages, 
the modern city is shrunk to but a quarter of its Re- 
naissance extent; and yet it has a population of nearly 
ninety thousand. 

So much I had observed upon former visits; and I 
saw now that the electric tramway was leading us into 
town by a directly northern entrance. The scattered 
houses of the suburb toward the railway station were 
already about us; we ran swiftly through the homely 
dwellings and factories, turned to the left, south- 
ward, crossed an arm of the Bacchiglione which once 
served as the northern moat, and in an instant were 
coming to a stop amongst what seemed like a chaos 
of Roman ruins. And so they were; for we had stopped 
in a new street beside the crumbling ancient walls 
of the Roman amphitheatre, in the northern corner of 
the eastern section of the city, — that Arena which 
found its unending fame centuries after its original 
uses had terminated, by furnishing the site and ma- 
terial for the church to the Madonna which Giotto 
made immortal. 



THE BRENTA 27 

The high old circling walls of pinkish stone hid 
from our present view the church within; we could 
see only that other treasure of Padua, the Church of 
the Eremetani, lying adjacent on the south, with its 
cloisters now occupied by lolling soldiery. A single 
carriage was in waiting for chance passengers. Secur- 
ing this, and piling our heavy luggage into it, we 
drove at once to the old tavern of curious name which 
has comforted so many travelers, — the Fanti Stella 
d'Oro. Two blocks to the south, a block to the west, 
— across the first eastern moat, which is now a 
picturesque canal between medieval houses, through 
what was once the Porta Altinate of the Romans, — 
and we found ourselves in the Piazza Garibaldi, on 
which the other go looks down. 



CHAPTER II 

PADUA THE LEARNED 

Antenor, from the midst of Grecian hosts 
Escaped, was able safe to penetrate 
The Illyrian bay, and see the interior realms 
Of the Tiburni, and to pass beyond — 
!l^unded the walls of Padua, and built 
The Trojan seat, and to the people gave 
A name, and there affixed the arms of Troy. 
Now, laid at rest, he sleeps in placid peace. 

— Crouch's Virgil. 

It was now the middle of the afternoon. Rather ex- 
hausted by the heat of the trip, we at once sought 
a siesta in the comfortable chambers secured at low 
figures, after ascertaining that that arrangement for 
meals would prevail which is now customary in most 
northern Italian towns: viz., morning cafe complet at 
lire 1.25, and tabled la carte for the other meals. This 
method is not only more satisfactory to most foreign- 
ers, who are very tired of long table d'hote meals and 
usually fond of a certain few dishes, but it is also much 
more inexpensive for a party. 

By five o'clock we had sallied out for our first walk 
of revisit about the charming old city. Our starting- 
point, the Piazza Garibaldi, is one of two widenings 
of that other main thoroughfare of the central section 
which curves around from its north gate and along 
its eastern side, just within the old eastern moat; Via 
Garibaldi they call it, also Via Otto Febbraio and Via 
Roma. It has become by accident the centre of mod- 
ern life and shopping. In its middle part the old 



PADUA THE LEARNED 29 

arcades that lined it have been done away with, and 
hundreds of modern shops installed, whose gay win- 
dows shine with finery. Modern well-dressed crowds 
are ever pushing along its sidewalks, or occupying 
them with cafe-tables, and in the evenings it is 
proudly a-glitter with electric lights and signs. 

I, however, wished to have the sensation of entering 
the city as of old, through its northern gates, as one 
usually enters from the railway station; so we followed 
Via Garibaldi northwest to Via Dante, and went out 
the latter to the station; then turned around. Ap- 
proaching the town thus customarily, the old sights 
greeted me one by one with the joy of recognition. 

The chestnuts on the broad highway were larger 
than ever, hiding the ugliness of the new, adjacent 
suburb. There in the centre of the road was the 
ornamental pillar with its reminiscence of Venetian 
loyalty, — the inscription that tells one: "Here was 
the rampart where our compatriots defeated Maxi- 
milian, and revenged the iniquity of the League of 
Cambrai, and the invasion of the foreigner, Sept. 29, 
1509." Then the ramparts loomed up before us on 
the right, those marking the city's greatest exten- 
sion: huge brick walls, massive and undecayed, with 
a round bastion at the corner, and the moat before 
them still flowing. 

We passed through this wall by the lofty, glower- 
ing, medieval, brick gate known as the Barriera Maz- 
zini, and immediately behind it saw to the left the 
familiar mass of the Church of the Carmini; while to 
the right rose the first suggestion of Ezzelino da 
Romano, the still intact tower of one of his twelve 
fortress-prisons, brick above, upon a foundation of 
enormous Roman stones. I could hardly repress a 
shudder as I thought once more of the countless tor- 



30 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

turing deaths that must have occurred within that 
masonry. Opposite, in pleasant contrast, stood before 
the church a wreathed statue of the genial Petrarch. 
It reminded me also of our own poet, Chaucer, who 
is said to have met Petrarch in this city, when he 
"learnt from him the story of Griselda, reproduced 
in the Clerk's Tale.''^ 

A few more southerly steps, and we were on the 
Ponte Molino, before the northern gate of the Roman 
city, over that arm of the Bacchiglione which was the 
fosse of the Roman wall. It is a stream here quite 
broad and swiftly flowing, lined with large trees and 
overhanging, decaying houses; a little restaurant to 
the right extends over the water with a covered 
veranda, whose set tables and flasks suggest happy 
carousings of summer evenings. The foundations of 
the five arches which thus conducted the ancient Via 
Aurelia into the city, still show their Roman work- 
manship. But that which most draws the eye is the 
huge masonry of the gate, with its great stone blocks 
of the republican era, fitted evenly together, and its 
medieval additions frowning and crumbling over- 
head. Here it was, as an inscription reminds us, 
that Francesco Novello swam the stream by night, 
entered the town, and roused the people to that 
memorable expulsion of the Milanese; and it was 
from this tower of the gateway that Galileo, it is 
said, when lecturing at the University, used by night 
to sweep the heavens with his glass. 

We kept straight down the Via Dante, which now 
exhibited that characteristic of the plain-towns which 
is so specially evident in Padua, — the colonnades 
along the house-fronts. Here they are often on both 
sides of the way, — as they used to be, everywhere, 

^ W. W. Skeat's Chaucer. 



PADUA THE LEARNED 31 

in the Middle Ages, — confining the street proper to 
a dark strip hardly ten feet in width. 

They have a unique interest, all their own in Padua, 
these heavy arcades extending for miles, that give 
to the traveler such grateful shade from the burning 
summer sun and shelter from the storms of winter. 
They are so clearly the constructions of every age: 
brick pillars, stone pillars, stuccoed pillars, columns 
of the same diversity, columns with rudely cut, prim- 
itive capitals of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, 
with Gothic capitals of the fourteenth and early fif- 
teenth, with Renaissance capitals in gradual develop- 
ment to the rococoism of the seventeenth; all bear 
the marks of the period of their making, and remind 
one incessantly of the many generations of change and 
strife that have flowed beneath them. 

Pursuing our dim way along them down the Via 
Dante, past barred windows, quaint little shops and 
dirty little cafes, we noticed on the right a handsome 
Gothic palazzo of the Venetian style, having exquisite 
pointed windows in dainty terra-cotta mouldings, 
including a central one of six lights with a genuine 
Gothic marble balcony. A little farther on, the cen- 
tral Piazza dei Signori suddenly opened, called nowa- 
days the Unita d'ltalia, and we found ourselves under 
the old Venetian Lion on its column, before the rem- 
nant of the vast bygone palace of the Renaissance 
despots, once famed throughout Italy as the Reggia 
Carrarese. 

This remnant is the so-called Palazzo del Capitanio, 
which faces the piazza on the west: a medium-sized 
building, distinguished by a monumental Renaissance 
stone gateway of two stories in the centre, through 
which leads a street to the rear. This archway, with 
its handsome flanking columns, is considered one of 



32 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the finest works of the architect Falconetto, exe- 
cuted in 1523; the upper part of the surmounting 
tower, however, dates from the fourteenth century, 
and from it looks forth the enormous clock that is 
said to be the earliest striking one in Europe. It was 
constructed in 1344-64 by a certain Giacomo Dondi, 
whose descendants are still accordingly endowed with 
the patronymic of "Dondi dell' Orologio." Under 
the clock-face is the broad inscription, — " Senatus 
Venetus Andrea Gritti Principe," which makes that 
famous long-gone doge seem but of yesterday; and 
over that stands the white marble relief of the Lion 
of St. Mark. 

How much it has meant, that most celebrated 
insigne, — and what extraordinary pride and care 
did the subject towns display in showing it. The first 
acts that Venice did after conquering a place, were 
to place the relief of the Lion on the fagade of the 
palace of government, the statue of the Lion on a 
white marble column in the central piazza, and the 
banner of the Lion on a red Venetian mast. Most of 
those statues in the Veneto were destroyed by the 
Austrians during their supremacy; this one of Padua 
is a modern substitute, and the column is a relic of the 
Roman Forum, dug up in 1764. 

For this Palazzo del Capitanio the great Palladio 
constructed an outside staircase. We walked through 
the archway, along the deep brick mass of the build- 
ing, for some distance to the rear, and there finally 
discovered what I had never noticed before, — a small 
rear courtyard, illumined like a treasure-house by the 
resplendent white mass and beautiful lines of the 
stairway. It rises in two covered flights, straight- 
away, to a right-angled landing at the top, undecorated 
save for the heavy balustrade and the unfluted Ionic 



PADUA THE LEARNED SS 

columns. There is no frieze, no sculpture; it is grand 
and beautiful simply from its perfect proportions and 
noble, harmonious lines. 

Close beside this to the right rises the detached Li- 
brary of the University, an uninteresting brick build- 
ing, on the exterior, but containing an immense hall 
with frescoes by Campagnola, the pupil of Titian, who 
was one of the best of the late sixteenth-century paint- 
ers of the Paduan school. This Sala dei Giganti, like 
the original building itself, was formerly a part of the 
mighty Reggia ; when it was frescoed under Jacopo II 
della Carrara, by D'Avanzi and Guariento, with sub- 
jects suggested by the despot's dear friend, Petrarch. 
These were subsequently covered over by Campag- 
nola's work, — all but two interesting portraits : one 
of Petrarch himself, the other of his Paduan disciple, 
Lombardo della Seta. Nearby remains the chapel of 
the great palace, also now occupied by the University, 
and once frescoed by Guariento. 

The Reggia was mainly erected by Ubertino della 
Carrara (about 1345), and contained a score or two of 
different, connected structures, with over four hun- 
dred rooms, surmounted by an imposing array of 
battlemented towers. Its principal, eastern front ex- 
tended from the Piazza del Duomo on the south, to the 
Vicolo S. Niccolo, some distance north of the Piazza; 
its westward extent was nearly as long, to the Via 
deir Accademia, behind the Library. Besides the offices 
of government, stables, servants' quarters, etc., its 
princely apartments were famed for that magnificence 
of decoration and furnishing which has been so well 
described for us by the Paduan annalist, Bernardino 
Scardeoni. The numerous noble courts, arcades, and 
flowered gardens complemented its brilliancy. It was 
connected with the western ramparts, and Ezzelino's 



34 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

castle on the southwest, by a covered passage raised 
on further arcades. Yet of all that grandeur there sur- 
vive to-day only these renovated buildings of the 
Library, the Palazzo del Capitanio — which was 
occupied by the Venetian Podestas — and the struct- 
ure adjoining the latter on the south, used now for the 
Monte di Pieta. 

It being now after six o'clock the Library was 
closed for the day; so we returned to the piazza, to 
examine the charming Renaissance loggia that adorns 
it upon the south. This Loggia del Consiglio, as it is 
called, is in reality the first thing to catch one's eye 
on entering the piazza, so superior to all else is it in 
grace and finish. It has the dainty simplicity of the 
early Renaissance, having been constructed about 
1493, and consists of a deep arcade or loggia, sur- 
mounted by a single upper story with double and 
triple windows; the arcade is approached by a wide 
flight of steps, and embellished with a pretty balus- 
trade and six monolithic marble columns with Co- 
rinthian capitals. The building is otherwise entirely 
of white stone, and delightfully effective, so much so 
that we did not for several minutes notice the statue 
which it holds in the loggia — Vittorio Emanuele II 
in his full regalia as the Conqueror. 

We continued to follow the Via Dante, passing 
immediately on the right another fine Renaissance 
fagade of simple lines, handsome in spite of the hid- 
eous red boarding of its upper windows, and having 
a large ornamental entrance, — the Monte di Pieta; 
beyond it opened soon the Piazza del Duomo, with 
the Cathedral looming on the west, and the Bishop's 
Palace on the south. The latter, originally erected 
about 1300, was rebuilt in 1474, and contains in its 
grand salon an excellent example of a Renaissance 



PADUA THE LEARNED 35 

hall, adorned with a frieze of fifty portraits of the 
bygone primates; it holds also a portrait by Guariento 
of the poet Petrarch, who was, thanks to Jacopo II, a 
canon of the Cathedral, and dwelt for some time in the 
House of the Canons. Neither edifice was of strik- 
ing appearance, the Duomo having but the unfinished 
brick fagade which is so common. More interesting 
were the Romanesque lines of the little ancient brick 
Baptistery, at the church's northeast corner, dating 
from the middle of the thirteenth century; it is drum- 
like in structure, with a flat dome, and no ornamenta- 
tion save two rows of Byzantine mouldings, — yet it 
has its own quaint effectiveness. Adjacent on the 
north side of the piazza we saw a handsome detached 
Renaissance archway, of the Doric order, — the so- 
called Area Vallaresso, which was erected by G. B. 
della Scala in 1632. 

We entered the Duomo. The flap of the leathern 
curtain admitted us to that strange region into which 
a mighty church transforms itself at eventide and 
vespers: a vast chiaroscuro into which great pillars 
mount, through which filter dim rays of red and pur- 
ple and gold from lofty windows, and where the glitter 
of starlike candles scintillates softly from gilded altar- 
piece and jeweled monstrance. Here and there in the 
dusk a darker shadow reveals that higher phenome- 
non, — a kneeling spirit in silent communion with 
the Almighty. Seen thus the simplest building takes 
on a form and significance of moving emphasis, recall- 
ing to the observer from the shadowy past those myr- 
iads of bygone figures, that have travailed and passed 
away. 

The original edifice on this spot was a work, it is 
said, of the seventh century ; which was reconstructed 
in 1124, in 1400, and finally, in 1524-75. The present 



36 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

structure, aside from its size and fine proportions, is of 
little interest; but it preserves in its sacristy a number 
of precious old reliquaries, miniatures, vessels, etc., 
besides a group of pictures of some worth, by Pado- 
vanino, Schiavone, Campagnola, and Bassano. 

On account of the dusk it was now out of the ques- 
tion to inspect the interior of the Baptistery; so we 
returned to the Piazza Unita d' Italia, and traversed 
the block on its east to those other ancient squares, 
the Piazzas dei Frutti and delle Erbe, which lie re- 
spectively on the north and south sides of the vast 
Palazzo della Ragione. 

Nothing stranger than this mighty structure greets 
the eyes of the traveler in all North Italy; no amount 
of revisiting can accustom him to its size. Its medie- 
valism is so apparent, in the Gothic parapet and the 
Romanesque columns and frieze of the prodigious 
logge, that the mind is at once led back to the dark- 
ness of that twelfth century which gave it birth, and 
one marvels that it could have left us such a produc- 
tion. Apparently four stories in height, the whole of 
the upper three consists of one immense hall, with 
a curving wooden roof, tinned upon the outside, 
which arches from one wall to the other. The logge, 
added in 1306, are two-storied arcades that extend 
along the entire hundred and fifty yards of each side; 
the lower consists of ponderous masonry arches, now 
occupied by shops; the upper, of a colonnade of light 
marble columns, connected by a marble balustrade. 

Next to this on the east we noticed, in passing, the 
Palazzo del Municipio, a richly ornamented but 
irregular building of the cinquecento, connected with 
the Salone — as the Paduans call the Palazzo della 
Ragione — by a heavy archway over the intervening 
street. Walking around to the eastern front of this 



PADUA THE LEARNED 37 

structure, we found ourselves on the Via Otto Feb- 
braio, and directly before the large building of the 
University on its farther side. This occupies a full 
square block, is faced with an interesting late-Re- 
naissance fagade in stone, and contains a magnificent 
cortile by Jacopo Sansovino, — which was now shut 
to us by the lateness of the hour. We turned up the 
thoroughfare toward the hotel, past the Post OflSce 
on our right, and I pointed out to my companions 
what is really one of Padua's chief curiosities — the 
Caffe Pedrocchi, directly opposite, which occupies a 
large stuccoed building between three streets, faced 
with three handsome Doric porticoes, approached by 
flights of steps and ornamented with sculptured lions. 
This was the site of the spacious ancient Forum, bril- 
liantly laid out under the Julian Emperors; of which 
significant remains were discovered during the caffe's 
construction. 

We came back to it later, after dinner, through the 
crowded way glittering with a thousand lights, and 
found it also thronged and aglow, like a scene on the 
boulevards of Paris. Evtry evening while in Padua we 
sat on one of its porticoes, consuming coffee and ices, 
watching the well-dressed crowds at their nightly 
amusements. 

On the morning after our first walk, which had 
covered the approach to town and the central sec- 
tion, we sallied forth early for some interior observa- 
tion, determined to commence with that which was 
earliest and of greatest importance, — the frescoes of 
Giotto. So we repaired again to the ruined Arena on 
the northeast, — located just outside the ancient city, 
as was the Romans' invariable custom, — and to the 
medieval structures which had been built from its 
material. 



38 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

So throughly did the medievals use up the stones of 
the amphitheatre that we found now within its walls 
of enceinture naught but lawns and flower-beds, care- 
fully tended by the municipality, with several recent 
excavations, showing at the bottom various finds of 
broken columns and entablatures. The ruins when 
more extensive had been granted by the Emperor 
Henry III, in 1090, to the Delesmanini family — from 
whom they were purchased about 1300 by one Enrico 
Scrovegno; he erected from them in 1303 a chapel to 
the Madonna, in order to redeem, it is said, a repu- 
tation made by his father for miserliness and usury, 
— so bad that Dante placed him in the seventh circle 
of his Inferno. Enrico also enlarged and beautified the 
palace of the Delesmanini, occupying the ground 
between the chapel and the entrance, so that it was 
long famed as one of the grandest mansions in North 
Italy; of it, however, not a trace now remains except 
the pillars of the gateway. In 1306 Enrico induced 
Giotto, still a young man and recently risen to fame 
by his paintings in Florence and at the Vatican, to 
come to Padua and decorate the chapel. There it 
stood now before us in the centre of the inclosure, a 
building so small and plain that one could hardly 
realize its significance in the history of art. 

A keeper let us in through the iron railing round- 
about, and a step through the little doorway brought 
us into an aisleless, round-arched nave, without col- 
umns or chapels, having simply a slightly raised 
tribune, a plain high-altar, and four plastered walls 
from which the still bright colors of the deathless com- 
positions glowed down upon us. They were lighted 
by a triple Gothic window high in the entrance-wall, 
six lancet windows on the right side, and two in the 
apse. Between the two last-mentioned lay the tomb 



PADUA THE LEARNED 39 

of Enrico Scrovegno, a late trecentist work, repre- 
senting him in the then accepted fashion, lying in 
armor upon the cover; and the walls of the choir were 
covered with frescoes by some followers of Giotto, 
of no importance. 

Giotto's frescoes are confined to the nave, which 
they illuminate in four great rows of separate tab- 
leaux, thirty-nine in all, beginning at the top to the 
right of the choir-arch and continuing clear around 
and back across the arch, gradually descending, until 
they end with the huge representation of the Last 
Judgment on the entrance wall. Before this master- 
piece of human genius words are futile; sensations 
vainly struggle, as they rush across the consciousness, 
to disentangle themselves and stand forth; one can 
only sit for a long time and gaze, gaze with the whole 
soul at one scene after another, sinking ever deeper into 
the atmosphere of that wonderful Biblical land, feel- 
ing ever more keenly impressed upon one the infinite 
pathos of Jesus' life and the infinite beauty of his 
character. 

In that these scenes do depict the history of the 
lives of Christ and his Mother, commencing with the 
Rejection of Joachim's offering because he was child- 
less, and ending with the Ascension, lies a fact that 
should have special attention as a light upon their 
power. Books have been written upon Giotto's break- 
ing away from the old traditions and opening a new 
era of lifelikeness and individualism, upon his being 
the first to grasp the secret of tactile values, upon his 
inception of the dramatic and of true story-telling, 
upon his adoption of coloring in broad masses and 
lighter tones, upon his discovery of the proper laws 
of composition, of the handling of masses, of darkness 
and light, of natural, dignified action; and all these 



40 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

wondrous inceptions are seen here displayed. But 
there is more than that. 

The true highest end and aim of representation 
should be, is bound to be, the setting-forth of some- 
thing spiritual, the striking of a psychic chord which 
shall vibrate in the soul of the observer. This is the 
truth which William W. Story seized upon, and devel- 
oped in his remarkable sculptures. This is the truth, 
often unrecognized, which has always confined good 
art to the depicting of the human form, as the only 
medium by which the spiritual can be expressed. In 
proportion as the human beings represented display the 
higher attributes, and by their expression and action 
set forth a spiritual idea or the exaltation of a godlike 
quality, in that same proportion does the spectator 
thrill in response. When therefore a painter goes be- 
yond the use of ordinary mortals, to the depicting of 
Him who alone has been perfectly divine in life and 
character, whose every action and very aspect must 
have radiated spirituality and uplifted all that beheld 
him, the painter uses the one, perfect, highest medium 
for his accomplishments; so that if the work be well 
done, it must speak to the soul of the spectator as 
could nothing else inanimate. 

Of course it was not in pursuance of this truth, now 
so patent to us, that the medieval artists devoted 
themselves exclusively to Biblical subjects, or that 
Giotto covered these walls with illustrations of the 
lives of Jesus and the Virgin; but because, until the 
time of the full Renaissance, it was entirely by the 
Church and the Monastery, and upon the churches 
and the monasteries, that they were given their work. 
The vast majority of the people were then unable to 
read; and so, as in this Chapel, the Church spread the 
divine story before them in pictures which they could 




PADUA. BASILICA OF SAN ANTOXIOT 



.,-x»;-v— ,~^^r 





[TH THE STATUE OF GATTAMELATA. 



PADUA THE LEARNED 41 

not fail to understand, and profit by. Nevertheless it 
was inevitable that Art, when ascending and expand- 
ing, should do so by the exposition of the spiritual in 
man; and should begin to decline when it transferred 
its representations, as it did in the sixteenth century, 
to the mythology of the heathen, without soul. 
Raphael's myth of Cupid and Psyche in the Corsini 
Palace at Rome, just about marks the turning-point. 

Giotto, whether or not he ever formulated this 
truth to himself in words, at any rate must have 
known and appreciated the superior power of expres- 
sion in the divine story, for he was always portraying 
it, and spiritual ideas, even when given entire latitude 
as to subject. Thus, with his intuitive genius, he de- 
veloped an ideal form of the Christ, which in my opin- 
ion has never since been surpassed and very seldom 
equaled. That was the great task: to depict a human 
shape from which should radiate all the highest beau- 
ties of the soul, which should be beautiful in appear- 
ance while yet full of manly strength and sorrowed by 
trials, which should be radiant though sad, powerful 
though meek, majestic though lowly, divine though 
human. 

How many, many painters have tried it in succeed- 
ing generations, and are still trying it ! And when has 
one ever succeeded in properly combining all those 
opposing qualities, and presenting to us an image that 
to our souls cried, "This is Christ"? Nearly always 
the failure comes in the inability to combine with the 
necessary fairness and gentleness that manliness and 
power which are also necessary. Generally the result 
is effeminate. I know of no Christ but Giotto's to 
which my heart can go out without one reservation. 

With such reflections in mind, what a profound 
sense comes upon one, as he examines these frescoes. 



42 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

not only of the marvel of their making when they 
were done, and their leadership through all the centu- 
ries, but of their still existing superiority in the expo- 
sition of the Divine, — in their power to thrill the 
soul of the observer. It is true that of the thirty-nine 
pictures the first twelve are devoted to the life of the 
Virgin before Jesus' birth, — following the accounts of 
the Apocryphal gospels known as the "Protevan- 
gelion" and "Gospel of St. Mary"; but one must 
remember that this is appropriate, in a chapel dedi- 
cated to the Virgin, and that Giotto must have aimed 
to set forth one continuous epic, from the inception 
of her life to the culminating Crucifixion.^ 

Though the figures are about life-size, no one would 
imagine it, in looking at them high upon the walls. 
No more of them are put into any one picture than is 
necessary for the idea, with careful composition and 
balancing, and comfortable free spaces; and the back- 
ground, whether of land or architecture, is but little 
developed, so that the eye is not attracted from the 
characters. The dramatic action is easy, natural, dig- 
nified, and yet of wonderful expressiveness; there is 
always grace, both in the ensemble and in the separate 
figures; the colors are laid on in Giotto's broad masses 
and light tones, so effective in wall-decoration; the 
faces are all keenly individualized; the solids and forms 
represented have the tangible realism and solidity 
that no one before Giotto attained. Yet above all 
these marvels of execution and expression is the mar- 
velous figure of the Saviour; whether raising Lazarus, 
entering Jerusalem upon the ass, washing the feet of 
the Apostles, or suffering crucifixion. He is always 

^ For a fuller discussion of these frescoes, see Ruskin's monograph on the 
chapel; or Andrea Moschetti's La Cappella degli Scrovegne e gli Affreschi di 
Giotto in Essa dipinti, Alinari, Florence, 1904. 



PADUA THE LEARNED 43 

the perfect man, the Son of God. Manliness and 
power shine from Him, while yet He is meek and 
lowly; all the qualities that we would seek, all the 
experiences that He had suffered, radiate from that 
beautiful countenance which seems more than human. 

The composition and dramatic action in the Rais- 
ing of Lazarus are of the strongest in the series; there, 
too, is one of the finest figures of Christ, in the very 
act of summoning back the spirit to the decaying 
body. The Maries kneel before Him in fear and adora- 
tion, while the spectators cry aloud in their amaze- 
ment. In the betraying kiss of Judas, the counten- 
ance of Jesus while suffering the kiss turns a look 
upon the traitor of infinite, sad reproach, that once 
seen can never be forgotten. The entry into Jeru- 
salem has a realism, in the people climbing the palm 
trees to break off branches, and doffing their cloaks 
and skirts to spread before the ass's feet, that makes 
one comprehend the eventful doings of that day as 
never before. 

When we see the great tragedy ended by the Depo- 
sition in the Tomb, surrounded by weeping apostles 
and friends, then there comes, in the Resurrection, 
one of the fine touches of Giotto, significant of his 
infinite care, — in that the form of the risen Christ, 
though of the same physical likeness as before, is no 
longer the same. It has become unearthly; and its 
spirituality is clearly marked. This is so also in the 
Ascension. 

In the life of the Virgin there are two especially 
marked pictures: first, the meeting at the Golden 
Gate between Joachim and Anna, after their separa- 
tion, in which there is most moving pathos in the 
manner in which the elderly couple cling to each other, 
and Anna fondly holds Joachim's head while kissing 



44 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

him, — significant of the true, pure love of the long 
and happily married; secondly, the Salutation of 
Elizabeth to the Virgin, upon the latter's visit, which 
is full not only of pathos but of profound physiognom- 
ical meaning. 

These frescoes did more than open the eyes of the 
world to the possibilities of painting; the forms in 
which Giotto cast many of the compositions became 
types for those subjects, which succeeding artists 
proceeded to follow for centuries. In looking at the 
two last-mentioned pictures one has to remember 
that for generations thereafter the two meetings be- 
came reproduced countlessly in the very same fashion, 
even to the identical manner in which Elizabeth 
seizes the Virgin, looking into her face. In the Vir- 
gin's presentation at the Temple we see for the first 
time that flight of steps, with the waiting high priest 
at the head of them, up which the girlish figure kept 
climbing for so many succeeding ages. Here is the 
prototype of the Worship of the Magi, with the fore- 
most kissing the Divine Child's foot, the other two 
standing in the rear with their costly offerings in 
hand, and the camels of the caravan behind; of the 
Flight into Egypt, with Mary and the Child upon a 
donkey, and Joseph walking; of the realistic Crucifix- 
ion, with the brutal soldiers parting the garments on 
one side, and the Virgin fainting between her friends 
on the other. Giotto adheres to the sacred narrative 
in that she is standing, — "stabat mater," — but the 
fainting idea became so seized upon and developed, 
that eventually she was depicted as prone upon the 
ground. Paolo Veronese was fond of this method. 

In that same fresco is seen one of Giotto's ideas 
which, most unfortunately, was not long followed : the 
representation of the superhuman, intangible forms 



PADUA THE LEARNED 45 

of the angels, flying roundabout and consoling the 
Sufferer, by showing them always at two-thirds length, 
— as if just appearing phantom-like from the air. The 
dire results of neglecting this precept are well shown 
in the angels and flying saints of Tintoretto long 
after, which are portrayed in full with such fidelity 
that one always feels that their heavy bodies are 
about to fall ponderously on the persons beneath. 
Likewise with Giotto's Last Supper, here represented 
properly with the apostles all around the table: he 
would not deviate from truth as did the later artists, 
in placing the diners upon one side only. 

About the walls of the nave, under the lowest series 
of tableaux, Giotto also depicted in separate panels, 
in grisaille, fourteen single figures illustrative of the 
Virtues and Vices; monumental works of their kind, 
which here usually pass unnoticed, but anywhere else 
would stand preeminent. Like the frescoes above, in 
which — to quote F. Mason Perkins — " Giotto may 
truly be said not only to have perfected the icono- 
graphy of Byzantium and the Middle Ages, but to 
have permanently fixed the laws of religious compo- 
sition," so also in these figures, "he succeeded in 
formulating a series of allegorical representations 
which, on account of their powerful significance of 
imagery, were handed down by his successors as gen- 
erally accepted types of those abstract qualities which 
they symbolized." ^ 

I did not upon this visit neglect to examine more 
carefully than theretofore the great fresco of the Last 
Judgment on the entrance wall, which Mr. Perkins 
styles "at once the grandest and the most monumental 
of all Giotto's works." High in the centre sits the 
same beautiful figure of the Saviour, in a vesica-piscis, 

1 F. M. Perkins, Giotto. 



46 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

with the twelve apostles throned to right and left and 
a host of angels filling the sky above, while He looks 
downward with welcoming hand to the elected souls, 
with the saints and martyrs at their head; on the right 
below is Satan, as a horned, partly human form, swal- 
lowing sinners and devoting them to horrible punish- 
ments; and directly over the doorway is the interest- 
ing group of Enrico Scrovegno receiving from three 
charming saints the model of the chapel. 

We went for a while into the little sacristy to the 
left of the choir, to look at the statue of Enrico Scro- 
vegno, standing in a niche with prayerful hands: a 
fine example of the great Giovanni Pisano, — to whom 
is also attributed the quaint Madonna upon the altar. 
In the sacristy also was kept the grand crucifix painted 
by Giotto on wood, which formerly hung in the trib- 
une. Then we returned to the chapel door, and lin- 
gered a last moment before departing, "gazing on 
these silent but eloquent walls, to re-people them with 
the group, pnce, as we know, five hundred years ago, 
assembled within them : Giotto intent upon his work, 
his wife Cinta admiring his progress, and Dante, with 
abstracted eye, — conversing with his friend." ^ 

Hours had passed us by, and it was lunch-time; 
but in the afternoon, after a siesta, we returned to the 
same location, for a visit to the adjacent Church of 
the Eremetani, — built likewise from the stones of the 
Arena. Its plain fagade is of no interest; but imme- 
diately upon entering I was struck, as formerly, with 
the strangeness of the interior. It has, like the Ma- 
donna deir Arena, that curious characteristic of the 
later thirteenth century, when it was built, — an un- 
adorned nave without aisles or columns, having vast 
bare wall-spaces, intended to be brightened with fres- 

^ Lord Lindsay, Christian Art. 



PADUA THE LEARNED 47 

coes, and once so covered, but now coldly and mono- 
tonously whitewashed. This bareness is emphasized 
by its extraordinary length; and its arched wooden 
roof is of Oriental style, painted fantastically blue and 
white. 

The origin of that peculiar roof was this: there 
lived at that epoch in Padua a certain Augustinian 
monk, one Fra Giovanni, who had visited India as a 
missionary, and brought back with him the design of 
the covering of an Indian hall. This design was first 
applied by the Paduans to the roofing of their enorm- 
ous hall in the Salone, and then, as it solved the 
problem admirably, to this huge nave of the Ere- 
metani, which would not appear fantastic but for the 
ridiculous coloring. Thereafter it was copied far and 
wide through northern Italy, in the greatest churches 
and civic buildings. 

Affixed high upon the walls to right and left of the 
entrance, we saw two fine Gothic tombs of the Delia 
Carrara (Ubertino and Jacopo minore), removed 
hither from the destroyed Church of S. Agostino, 
Jacopo's being distinguished for its Latin inscription, 
composed by his grateful friend, Petrarch. Both were 
sculptured by Andriolo de' Santi, the noted architect 
of the Church of S. Antonio. On the entrance wall 
itself were two rather pretty altars of painted terra- 
cotta, products of the school of Donatello's pupil, 
Bellano. There was naught else to enliven the nave 
but two or three simple altars on each side, against 
the long blank spaces. The choir, with its adjacent 
chapels, was almost equally uninteresting, having only 
some damaged frescoes by the Byzantine-mannered 
Guariento, — although they are, perhaps, the best of 
his known works. 

This cold nave, however, was once the scene of 



48 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

tremendous human passions; for here it was that on 
the day before Christmas,* 1585, occurred the penulti- 
mate act in the wondrous, terrible drama of Vittoria 
Accoramboni, — that drama so perfectly character- 
istic of the unbridled lusts and horrors of the decaying 
Renaissance, which has left behind it no worse relic 
and no stronger epitome; that tragedy over which so 
many authors of many tongues have lingered, and 
which John Webster immortalized in his stage-epic of 
The White Devil. 

To sum up what is so well known, Vittoria Acco- 
ramboni, — so famed for her beauty that from a poor 
girl of unknown family she had become the wife of 
Francesco Peretti, nephew of the Cardinal Montalto, 
subsequently Pope Sixtus V, — not satisfied with 
such a rise, schemed with her brother for her husband's 
assassination, in order to marry the brutal Duke of 
Bracciano, chief of the Orsini; and, after escaping 
decapitation in prison for the murder, and three times 
wedding the duke, following different papal decrees 
annulling the marriage, fled with him from the court 
of Sixtus to far-off Padua. Here they had no sooner 
established themselves and their retinue, in various 
rented palaces in the city and on the Lago di Garda, 
than Bracciano died, — of poison, it is supposed, at 
the hands of his enemies; leaving Vittoria well pro- 
vided for by his will, yet subject to the power of his 
nephew and executor. Prince Ludovico Orsini. The 
latter, who had bitterly hated her from the first, and 
opposed her marriage, immediately did all that he 
could to thwart and despoil her; and soon ended by 
invading at night her palace near the Arena, with 
forty armed, masked bravos. This was the Palazzo 
Cavalli which still stands opposite the church, de- 
voted nowadays to a school of army engineering. 



PADUA THE LEARNED 49 

They found Vittoria at her prie-dieu, costumed for 
bed, and slew her with many daggers; including in the 
slaughter her young and innocent brother Flaminio, 
as he sang to his lute, unconscious of danger. Next 
day the two corpses were laid out together in an open 
coffin in this Church of the Eremetani; and all day 
long the people of Padua crowded by with rising ire. 
In the dimness of the nave I could almost see again 
that strange, weird scene: the fair body of Vittoria 
upon the black velvet pall, its white exposed breast 
gaping redly with the wounds, — still so gloriously 
lovely in her crown of golden hair, that the gazing 
bourgeois forgot, as they looked, her past of crime, 
and with ever-increasing anger raised their hands, and 
swore revenge upon the murderer. 

The finale quickly followed: Prince Ludovico had 
intrenched himself with his followers in his palace 
hardby; the people of Padua called out their soldiers, 
armed at large, and besieged the murderer with mus- 
ket, firebrand, and cannon; his men fell dying, his 
dwelling tottered, and he surrendered. Such was 
Padua's Christmas Day of 1585. Two days later, 
Prince Ludovico Orsini met his doom of strangulation 
in the dungeons of Venice; seventeen of his surviving 
bravos were hanged, decapitated, and quartered, eight 
condemned to the galleys, and six to long terms in 
prison. Well could Webster cry of those princes 
of the Renaissance : — 

These wretched eminent things 
Leave no more fame behind 'em than should one 
Fall in a frost and leave his print in snow. 

What a contrast to pass from that scene to the 
little chapel adjoining the right transept of the church, 
dedicated to Saints James and Christopher, — and 
find true fame immortal blazoned there by the paint- 



50 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

er's quiet brush. Here it was, about 1453, that Squar- 
cione was commissioned by the Ovetari family to 
depict the lives of those saints; that he delegated the 
work to his pupils Niccolo Pizzolo, Bono da Farrara, 
Ansuino da Forli, and Andrea Mantegna; and that 
from the resulting compositions the renown of Man- 
tegna soared starlike to the sky, never to sink. Un- 
fortunately a number of the frescoes have now become 
so much damaged and erased as to spoil both their 
details and their appearance as a whole; but enough 
still remains, including several whole pictures of 
Andrea's, to make us understand how he, theretofore 
an unknown youth, came before their completion to 
be sought by the Marchese Gonzaga to ornament his 
court at Mantua, — and became at a bound the 
object of the flocking world's praises. 

The illustrations from the life of St. Christopher 
are on the right wall, those of St. James on the left; 
Mantegna's works are the two lowest on the right, 
and the four lowest on the left, — large panels with 
life-size figures, which show by their marked differ- 
ences in execution and expression the great step for- 
ward made by the youth while engaged in their com- 
position. In the earlier ones, the second series of St. 
James, we notice more attention given to the archi- 
tecture and landscape than to the figures, which are 
immobile, rather stiff, and without expression; but 
in the four later (including what we can decipher of 
the defaced Death and Burial of St. Christopher) 
the human forms rise to a positive grandeur in their 
graceful dignity, individuality, and power. Above all 
is their marvelous solidity, which has a finished real- 
ism that delights the rested eye. 

The middle series on the left — St. James baptizing 
a convert in the street, and appearing before Herod — 



PADUA THE LEARNED 51 

have in spite of their statuesqueness a beauty all their 
own, in the splendid perspective, the realism of the 
buildings and the countryside, the pleasing, balanced 
composition, and the most extraordinary use (for that 
period) of actual light and shade. In the very real 
soldier who stands alone, turning his head away from 
Herod as though in grief and disapproval, one sees 
the countenance of Mantegna himself, as he was then, 
a youth of twenty-five; and what better than that 
lined, worn face could tell one of his young years of 
unceasing application and study. 

Likewise, as the legend has it, the broad counten- 
ance of Squarcione is visible, in the Execution of St. 
Christopher, upon the burly soldier with spear in 
hand, who is looking over his shoulder at the rather 
amusing bulk of the condemned giant-saint, which 
they are vainly trying to fill with arrows. The latter 
are not merely stopped miraculously in the air, but 
one of them has flown back into the eye of the watch- 
ing and blaspheming king. This can barely now be 
discerned. The execution of St. James has more pa- 
thos, as he lies on the ground, with the uplifted mallet 
about to descend and dash out his brains; and the 
head of the saint projects from the wall in a manner 
that is genuinely startling. To left of this he is on his 
way to execution, and has stopped in a crowded city 
street to heal a suppliant unfortunate; in this scene 
there is a remarkable disposition of grouping and 
thronged movement, with the same fine realism as 
to buildings and perspective, and a very easy, pow- 
erful, dramatic action. Through all the pictures runs 
Mantegna's great characteristic, which so many paint- 
ers strive after to-day, — the depicting of the clothed 
human form so that the observer is clearly conscious of 
the body beneath, in all its solidity and articulations. 



52 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

The other frescoes in the chapel are of importance 
only to show one the tendencies of Squarcione's 
school, and emphasize how far Mantegna rose above 
them. Besides the upper panels of the lives of Saints 
James and Christopher, — the former executed by 
Ansuino and Bono da Ferrara, — they consist of repre- 
sentations of the four evangelists on the ceiling, and 
some excellent work by Pizzolo on the wall and vault- 
ing of the apse behind the altar; including a large 
Assumption of the Virgin in which she is drawn with 
much tactile value and dignity. Good critics also 
attribute to Pizzolo the two first scenes concerning 
St. James. 

On finishing the examination of this chapel, we 
had done with the sights of the northeastern quarter; 
and when we resumed our walk upon the following 
morning, I took my companions back to the central 
section, to visit the interiors which we had there 
omitted. We started south down Via Garibaldi, 
but, just before reaching the nearby Piazza Cavour, 
stepped up the narrow Via S. Andrea to the right for 
a short distance, to see a mutilated, ancient, sculp- 
tured figure of a cat, — unmistakably a cat, of heroic 
size, — seated upon a column cut from the same kind 
of gray stone, old enough apparently to date from 
Roman days. This was the famed "Gatta di S. An- 
drea," — originally intended to be a lion, the device 
of the surrounding ward, — which was raised in 1212 
to celebrate the citizens' victory, with Ezzelino, over 
Aldobrandino d' Este. 

Returning to Via Garibaldi, we went on to the 
University, whose doors were now open, and a stream 
of students passing in and out. As we entered through 
the large deep archway to the central court, flanked by 
four Doric half-columns supporting a heavy entabla- 



PADUA THE LEARNED 53 

ture, I thought of how many, many generations that 
stream of eager, aspiring youth had been so passing, — 
even since before the days of Dante, — and reflected 
upon the airs of antiquity assumed by some modern 
universities that can boast of a century's existence. 
Even the curious, loving nickname, bestowed on this 
one of Padua by the students and people, — II Bo, — 
dates from a famous tavern, with the sign of the ox, 
that existed on this spot more than four hundred years 
ago. Up to 1493 the various component schools were 
scattered about the city ; but in that year the Venetian 
Government, as one of the first, wise moves in its new 
possession, collected them all into the large building 
theretofore occupied by the "Osteria del Bo." The 
edifice subsequently underwent many reconstructions, 
receiving the present dignified f agade in the latter part 
of the sixteenth century. The number of students is 
now about fourteen hundred, comparing well with the 
largest institutions of other countries to-day, but a 
shrinkage indeed from the eighteen thousand reported 
to us from the Early Renaissance. 

The strikingly beautiful central court that we 
entered dates from the cinquecento, by the hands of 
the great Sansovino; two stories of rhythmical white 
colonnades with rounded arches, the lower of the 
Doric order, the upper of Ionic, flashed down upon 
us from all four sides their charming lines with reliev- 
ing shadows; the pedestals of the Ionic columns were 
sculptured with reliefs, and between them stretched 
a handsome balustrade; the Doric frieze of the first 
story was ornamented, in the spaces between the 
customary triglyphs, by circles, globes, musical instru- 
ments and bucrania, — sure mark of the commenced 
Decadence, as was also the line of lions' heads above 
the upper columns, with conventional designs inter- 



54 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

laced between. The cornice was small, and made of 
acanthus consoles at intervals. Round about the 
four walls hung countless armorial bearings of by- 
gone prominent graduates, and over the balustrade 
hung groups of present undergraduates, in earnest 
discussion. 

We mounted the staircase to the upper story, and 
visited the great hall of the University, on the court's 
eastern side: a magnificent chamber, with a large 
rostrum, many curving rows of fine seats, and a richly 
painted ceiling; the four walls being closely studded 
with the wooden, gilded coats of arms and crests of 
former generations, hundreds upon hundreds, glis- 
tening with gold-leaf and animated by countless 
strange heraldic figures. The portiere pointed out to 
us a number of crests of celebrated personages of the 
Renaissance. Here Galileo taught mathematics, from 
1598 to 1608. Women sometimes in those days at- 
tended here also, — as we had noticed, in ascending 
the staircase, by the statue of the famed Elena 
Lucrezia Pi;^copia, who on account of her remarkable 
erudition received here a doctor's degree about the 
middle of the seventeenth century, — one of the 
earliest to be bestowed upon the gentler sex. 

The portiere then accompanied us to the top-floor 
front, where we saw one of Padua's most interesting 
relics: the first anatomical arena ever constructed in 
Europe, — in 1482, — whose lines have been followed 
by all succeeding ones: six tiers of oval wooden 
benches with railings, rising steeply one above the 
other to the ceiling, with the operating-table in the 
confined central space, placed on a trap-door by 
which it could be raised from a basement below with 
the body already in position. The whole construction 
was of wood, now cracked and worn by time, but 



PADUA THE LEAENED 55 

still, after four centuries and more of use, in surpris- 
ingly good condition. As I thought of the brilliant 
light that had spread from this room into the modern 
knowledge of the human body, — while we slowly 
descended the stairs and left the famous precincts, — 
Shelley's lines passed through my mind: — 

In thine halls the lamp of learning, 
Padua, no more is burning; — 
Once remotest nations came 
To adorn that sacred flame. — 
Now new fires from antique light 
Spring beneath the wide world's might. 

Traversing the passage along the left side of the 
Municipio opposite, we came at once to the Piazza 
delle Erbe and the south side of the mighty Salone, 
where a wide outside staircase ascends to its hall. 
Mounting this, we rang a bell by a hanging cord, and 
were admitted by a woman keeper for a small fee, — 
stepping from the first-floor loggia immediately into 
the vast inclosure. As my eye swept over its ninety- 
one yards of length, thirty yards of width, and thirty- 
two yards of height, to the gigantic wooden span over- 
head, I wondered again how the medievals could ever 
have done it. In such a space the two colossal, black- 
stone, Egyptian statues of Neith by the doorway 
looked nothing unusual, and the giant wooden model 
of Donatello's horse for the Gattamelata statue, at the 
west end, seemied no more than life-size. The acreage 
of floor was increased to the eye by the lack of all 
furniture; naught encumbered it except the statues 
mentioned, and a curious dark-stone pedestal in the 
northeast corner, — the Lapis Vitwperii, upon which 
for centuries defaulting debtors were stood in the 
piazzas, to be cleared from insolvency by the fire of 
their creditor's tongues. 



5Q PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

All around the immense walls, in three hundred and 
nineteen separate compartments, run fully as curious 
quattrocento frescoes, by one Zuan Miretto and another, 
representing the signs of the Zodiac and other astro- 
nomical bodies, of allegorical meaning. It was these 
walls, or this roof, that Giotto once tinted with his 
magic brush, — a labor marvelous for size as well as 
beauty, if he covered all the space; but a fire in 1420 
destroyed the work, leaving us with no conception of 
what would have been one of the world's chief treas- 
ures. The hall had just then been rebuilt, when Giotto 
worked upon it; originally three chambers, they had 
been converted into one in 1306, with the aid of the 
wide roof whose design Fra Giovanni brought back 
from India. There above us it still sprang from wall 
to wall, a mighty, open- wood work construction, in the 
same lines as that of the Eremetani, mounting from 
each side to the peak in a succession of half -arches, 
one upon another. 

How dusty, bare, silent, and deserted was this 
strange place which has held such priceless artistic 
treasure, "where the very shadows seem asleep as 
they glide over the wide, unpeopled floor, [and] it is 
not easy to remember that this was once the theatre 
of eager intrigues, ere the busy stir of the old burg 
was utterly extinguished." ^ 

We went down to examine Donatello's wooden 
horse, — a huge, lifelike figure with a modern head, 
teeming with muscular energy, which was praised by 
poets to the skies when it came from the master's 
hand, the first man-made charger since ancient days. 
Behind it to the right, on the end wall, we noticed a 
little monument to Livy, containing the bones of his 
freedman Titus Halys, which were when first found 

^ J. A. Symonds, Fine Arts, chap, ii, p. 60. 




to 

H 

> 

O 

Ph 

O 
H 

B 
H 

o . 



tn 

2 ^ 

w o 

H 

CO o 

I - 

« 



PADUA THE LEARNED 57 

mistaken for the historian's. Other Roman relics and 
inscriptions line the walls of the loggia without, on 
the north side, where we looked down upon the 
flocked toadstool-covers of the market-stands in 
Piazza dei Frutti, and the morning pandemonium of 
the bartering populace rose to our ears. 

Descending, we made our way through the crowd 
westward to Via Dante and the Duomo. The piazza 
before the latter was vacant and silent as ever, and 
the sun poured into it somnolently; three soldiers 
were in fact asleep together before the triumphal arch 
of the Carrara. I found the sacristan within the 
Duomo, and brought him out to let us into the an- 
cient, round Baptistery, which is always kept locked. 

Exclamations of astonishment burst from my com- 
panions' lips as we stood in that strange cubic nave, 
of the twelfth century, gazing at its quadrangular 
walls and flat dome : the whole structure, every square 
inch of its surface above the wainscoting, — on walls, 
dome, entranceway, presbytery, chapels, even to the 
soffits of all the arches opening into the chapels, — 
was covered with vivid, dramatic frescoes that irra- 
diated the dusk with countless colors! Never have I 
seen another building so completely painted; a huge 
flower-garden, it has properly been called. But if now 
so exuberant in hues, what must it have been when 
Giusto Padovano first did this work, in 1378, more 
than five centuries ago. 

He was not a first-class artist; his drawing was 
faulty, his compositions ill-arranged, his work lacking 
in grace, lifelikeness and natural expression; but what 
a world of energy, dramatic exposition, and true, 
deep feeling, was poured into these representations of 
the sacred story, — and still shines from their earnest 
figures, straight to the heart of the observer. No- 



58 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

where have I seen a more perfect setting-f orth of that 
profound religious emotion which the Renaissance at 
first excited in the trecento Itahans. The work, it is 
true, was considerably retouched by Luca Brida in the 
eighteenth century, — to which are due its present 
bright colors; but he was singularly careful not to 
injure the lines of the master. 

The cycle is commenced on the southern wall by 
the portrayal of the life of John the Baptist, and con- 
tinued on the northern and western walls and the 
chancel arch of the eastern, by those of the Virgin 
and the Saviour; the small chamber of the chancel is 
lined on all sides with some forty scenes of the Apo- 
calypse, — "the most complete and comprehensive 
illustration of the Apocalypse ever attempted in 
painting,"^ — and its cupola contains the customary 
Descent of the Holy Ghost; while the lower parts of 
the dome of the nave are adorned with the history 
of the Book of Genesis, as far as the placing of Joseph 
in the well, and its centre holds a remarkable, serried 
Gloria. In -the last, "Our Saviour stands in the 
centre, within a circle of light, and below Him, in a 
vesica piscis, the Virgin, erect, with her hands raised 
in prayer, as at St. Mark's and in the Duomo of 
Murano. To their right and left sit, in different atti- 
tudes, and with their distinctive emblems, the saints 
of God, male and female, five rows deep, in a vast 
circle; the effect is singularly brilliant, and reminds 
one of Dante's comparison of the church in heaven to 
a snow-white rose."^ This, says the same distin- 
guished author, "is the first instance, I believe, of the 
style of composition subsequently adopted by Cor- 
reggio and later painters, but originally, as in the 
present instance, imitated from the mosaics." 

^ Lord Lindsay, Christian Art. 



PADUA THE LEARNED 59 

Besides this, perhaps the first painted Gloria, of most 
interest to us were the fervid, energetic tableaux of the 
sacred Hves, so rich in significant incident and earnest 
feeling as to impress one in spite of all their faults. 
Through them all shone forth the preponderating in- 
fluence and example of Giotto; nearly everywhere a 
repetition of his ideas of composition, expression, and 
color; below Altichieri also in their setting-forth, yet 
bearing the distinctive marks of the emotion behind 
the hand that drew them. Here were already again 
the Child-Virgin on her way up the temple steps to 
the waiting high priest, the Last Supper with the 
sleeping St. John upon Jesus' breast, and a Betray- 
ing Kiss of Judas practically identical with that of 
the Arena; there were other scenes, however, which 
Giotto had not represented, and in which Giusto 
shows himself capable of original composition. 

From this building we went on to the only remaining 
sight of interest in the central section, the large castle 
of Ezzelino in its southwest corner, whose grim battle- 
mented tower still glowers down over the whole city 
as when that devil kept it filled with tortured suf- 
ferers. This keep, however, is about all that one can 
see of it, for the original castle has been rebuilt and 
inclosed with later and more extensive structures, 
which are occupied as barracks and an astronomical 
observatory; the walls of Ezzelino being visible on the 
south and west sides only, where they back darkly 
upon two arms of the first city moat. There were 
originally two towers, of great height and strength, 
which the people called the Zilie, after their architect; 
one of them was demolished in the sixteenth century, 
and the other reduced to its present size in 1769, when 
adapted to observatory uses. The extensive and ter- 
rible mass of dungeons which Zilio constructed under- 



60 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ground, he himself was one of the first doomed pris- 
oners to enter. They must still exist, in large part, 
though sealed from modern eyes. 

We wandered thence for a while through the narrow 
winding ways of the southeastern portion of the 
central section, — the most ancient part of Padua; 
true medieval ways of dirt and shadows, too con- 
fined for arcades, leaned over by high, gaunt, stone 
dwellings or walls of crumbling stucco, with an occa- 
sional larger palace of Renaissance days in more pre- 
tentious lines. This quarter continues across the arm 
of the Bacchiglione forming the first eastern city moat, 
into the southerly part of the town's eastern addition; 
and into this part I took my companions after lunch, 
by way of the Via S. Francesco, which runs south- 
eastward from the University. 

Hard behind the buildings of the University, the 
ancient moat, now a picturesque narrow stream of 
muddy water, creeps between decaying backs of 
medieval houses and frequent leafy gardens; and 
immediately beyond this, we came upon the very 
dwelling which Dante occupied when living in Padua, 
six centuries ago: an excellently preserved, stuccoed 
palace of Gothic lines, the windows with tracery in 
their pointed arches which clearly had been renewed 
in ironwork. This modern touch, and the fresh-looking 
grayish paint over all, made it difficult for the mind to 
grasp that in those very walls had worked and slept 
the author of the Divine Comedy. 

Opposite, on the south side of the street, in a recess 
at a house corner, stands a relic still older : an ancient 
stone sarcophagus, surmounted by pillars supporting 
a brick trecento canopy, — which is thoroughly be- 
lieved by most Paduans to contain the remains of 
their Trojan founder, Antenor. I tested the truth of 



PADUA THE LEARNED 61 

this by inquiring of a number of passing citizens; their 
responses were as positive as unanimous. As a mat- 
ter of fact, however, the sarcophagus was unearthed 
in 1274, while digging a cellar, and in it "was found a 
skeleton of mighty size, still grasping a sword, with 
a crude Latin inscription from which the excited 
populace insisted that this was the tomb of Antenor. 
Modern criticism looks upon it as the burial-place of 
some Hungarian invader of the ninth century." ^ 

A few paces beyond this diverges to the right, 
southward, the Via del Santo; and we slowly followed 
it to that great block of buildings, which in the minds 
of the Italians distinguishes Padua far beyond the 
rest of her possessions, and which is certainly for us 
next in interest to the frescoes of Giotto : the enormous 
church and cloisters of St. Anthony of Padua, with 
their attendant courts and chapels. Stretching over 
acres upon acres of ground, they form one of the most 
celebrated groups of edifices in all Italy, and a saintly 
shrine second only to that of St. Francis of Assisi. 

^ C. Hare, Dante the Wayfarer. 



CHAPTER III 

PADUA AND S, ANTONIO 

" And whither journeying ? " — " To the holy shrine 
Of Sant' Antonio in the city of Padua." 

— Samuel Rogees, Italy. 

It is difficult for a foreigner to realize how large a part 
St. Anthony occupies in the Italian Catholic mind, 
until he has lived for some time in the country, and 
visited this city where the saint labored and died. 
St. Anthony was a follower of St. Francis; but far 
greater than that which repairs to Assisi is the steady 
concourse of pilgrims who throng to Padua year after 
year, to lay their hands in prayer against the sar- 
cophagus containing the sacred relics; and extensively 
as the Church of St. Francis has been adorned by the 
great artists of the past, far more so has been this 
church of his follower, until the devotion of six centu- 
ries has gathered here one of earth's grandest collec- 
tions of artistic treasures. The impulse of Cathol- 
icism to beautify its holy places has found here a most 
remarkable exposition. 

He was a Portuguese — St. Anthony — whose 
thoughts turned to self-sacrifice and religious zeal 
from his very childhood; first betaking himself as a 
missionary to the fanatical Moors, then obliged by 
illness to return to Europe, a happy wind drove his 
vessel to the northern shores of Italy, where he was 
attracted to Assisi by the fame of St. Francis's 
preaching, and at once embraced the latter's cause 
with unequaled ardor. Far and wide then he traveled 
for years, in the Franciscan habit, preaching with a 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 63 

fervor that converted whole multitudes, and whole 
cities in a body, until the fame of his sanctity became 
second to that of St. Francis only. Miraculous powers 
were attached to him by the people; and eventually 
his life and holy deeds became one of the most beauti- 
ful legends of the Church. Countless are the miracles 
attributed to him, and thoroughly believed in by the 
devout; one often portrayed is that of his preaching 
to the fishes of the sea, who rose to the surface to listen 
to him, when the inhabitants of Rimini would not; 
many others are of dead persons restored to life, — 
a young girl that had been drowned, a child that had 
been scalded, a noble lady stabbed by her husband, 
a youth slain by the brother of his inamorata, etc. 
Well known is the story of the heretic Boradilla, who 
required a miracle to remove his doubts; and St. 
Anthony, with the Host in hand, at once by a word of 
command forced the mule which Boradilla was driving 
to kneel before the sacred object. 

The latter years of the Saint's life were spent in 
Padua, where he greatly comforted the inhabitants in 
their horrible existence under Ezzelino, and fearlessly 
confronted that tyrant himself with the memorable 
words: "O most cruel tyrant, and mad dog! the ter- 
rible sentence of God hangs over thee. When wilt 
thou cease to spill the blood of innocent men.?" 
Whereupon '*they saw the monster, whom all feared, 
fall upon his knees, with a cord about his neck, before 
the man of God, confessing his sins and imploring 
pardon." ^ Even after his death the Saint continued 
to appear and sustain the Paduans under Ezzelino's 
continued cruelties. He died at the early age of thirty- 
six, in 1231, exhausted by his life of hardship and sac- 
rifice; and the very next year was canonized, and the 

* Perkins, Tuscan Sculptors. 



64 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

vast church to contain his shrine commenced by the 
devoted people, — who have ever since called him by 
no other name than "II Santo." He was exceedingly 
fond of children, was often supported in his trials by 
visions of the infant Christ, and is not only therefore 
identified with child-life and love, but usually repre- 
sented as carrying the little Jesus in his arms. 

The first sight of the mighty temple erected over 
his remains is always an amazing one. My companions 
were duly surprised, as we came upon it behind its 
wide, stone-paved piazza at the south end of the Via 
del Santo, — so gigantic was the mass of buildings, 
so lofty the gabled peak of the church, crowned by its 
extraordinary throng of Oriental pointed domes and 
minarets, whose blue spires soared from every part 
into the bluer sky, and made the whole edifice seem 
a creation of dreamland. S. Marco of Venice was 
clearly responsible for the design, as it has fathered 
so many Byzantine-domed structures over the terri- 
tories of Venetia. 

The chuj'ch faces westward, with the extensive 
piazza before it and upon the north, along the south- 
ern side of which run the adjacent lower buildings 
containing the chapel of S. Giorgio, the Scuola del 
Santo, and the part of the monastery made over into 
the city's museum of fine arts. First to attract our 
attention, however, after the soaring domes and min- 
arets, was the fine bronze equestrian statue rising 
upon a very high stone pedestal, opposite the north- 
western angle of the fagade, — a wonderful war-horse 
of heroic size, mounted by a stern-visaged knight 
whose presence commanded the whole inclosure. It 
was the Gattamelata of Donatello. What a marvel- 
ous work — so perfectly life - like, so vigorous and 
powerful, so dominating! the first bronze horseman 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 65 

since the days of Rome, yet after four centuries of 
existence still unsurpassed. 

We turned from it to consider the facade, which is 
one of the most unusual of North Italy, partly in that 
it is constructed, like the rest of the edifice, of a 
strange brick of yellowish hue, — "a most vile ma- 
terial wherewith to attempt the construction of a 
noble church. Stone is used very sparingly in the 
voussoirs of the arches, etc." ^ The great Niccolo 
Pisano was the architect, however, and has not failed 
to give us a Gothic fagade of imposing lines. Its most 
striking feature is a charming colonnade, of pointed 
arches upon slim marble shafts, with light marble 
balustrades between the shafts and above it, — which 
crosses just below the gable; below this are four huge, 
recessed Gothic arches, the two outer wider than the 
inner ones, and between the two inner a lower, 
rounded, recessed doorway, topped by a rounded 
niche containing an ancient statue of the Saint. In 
the outer arches are two small, rectangular side door- 
ways, each with two deep lancet windows overhead; 
while each of the inner arches contains a single lancet 
opening, still narrower and longer. Above the colon- 
nade, the gable holds a simple rose-window, with a 
double Gothic one on each side, of trefoil lights, and 
— with that variation which ever in Italy accom- 
panies the Gothic — a Romanesque cornice of little 
round arches along the sloping eaves. From the peak 
soars a three-storied minaret with an acute spire, 
backed by one of the looming domes, tinned, and 
painted azure. From the intersection of the nave with 
the wide transept rises a large colonnaded drum, upon 
which towers highest of all a tinned spire, bearing a 
winged angel to the clouds. The whole construction 

^ Street, Brick and Marble in the Middle Ages, chap, vii, pp, 117-18. 



66 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

is most strange, in its medley of the Romanesque, the 
Gothic, and the Byzantine. 

Approaching more closely the main portal, we ob- 
served in its lunette the famous fresco placed there 
by Mantegna at the age of twenty-one, — the brown- 
f rocked figures of Saints Anthony and Bernardino, 
chief lieutenan/ts of the Franciscan order, holding be- 
tween them the golden monogram of Christ, glistening 
like a sunburst; a work unfortunately now retouched 
and much ruined, but still exhibiting what a power 
of modeling and disposition the master had at* that 
age acquired. Below it are handsome, modern bronze 
doors, containing in high-relief four beautiful Gothic 
niches with the four leaders of the Franciscan order, 
— the two already mentioned and Saints Bona Ven- 
tura and Louis of Toulouse. 

We entered the nave — and stood overpowered by 
the vast space of incense-scented gloom, whose mighty 
stone pillars towered to dim domes far above; it was 
pierced in the distant choir by shafts of light from 
lofty windows, that fell upon a wondrous, gleaming 
high-altar, adorned with lovely bronze figures which 
stood upon its top about a majestic crucifix. It was 
the famous altar of Donatello. The lofty roof is sub- 
divided into two bays and two domes alternately, 
and the piers to support the latter are so heavy as 
almost to conceal the lower aisles and give the effect 
of a nave only; it is the chief fault of the construction. 
The upper wall-spaces that once were covered by fres- 
coes of the early masters, which must have beauti- 
fully illumined the edifice with their flood of color and 
gold-leaf, now stand whitewashed and cold, — a result 
of the fire of 1748; but waves of beauty still pour 
from the pictures and sculptured monuments upon 
the piers, and the massed treasures of the choir. 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 67 

There is a grandeur about all the rear part of the 
structure : two great domes, one over the intersection 
of the transept, and the other over the high-altar, 
shower down their mystic light; tall, graceful, pointed 
arches circle round the apse, opening into the ambu- 
latory behind; and before the choir rises an exquisite 
rood-screen, of pavonassa columns with sculptured 
bases and Corinthian capitals, upholding round arches 
with richly decorated edges and soffits, upon whose 
entablature stand a crowd of saintly figures. Behind 
these we saw still higher the bronze saints and twink- 
ling candles of the high-altar; and the long marble 
floor stretching up to them was dotted with dark 
living figures, moving ceaselessly to and fro in the 
religious silence. 

Concentrating our attention upon details, it was 
first struck by a most engaging painting upon the first 
pier to the right, facing the entrance, — a Virgin and 
Child, with four Franciscan saints, by the compara- 
tively unknown early cinquecentist, Antonio Boselli 
of Bergamo; a work of delightful grace and coloring, 
of that calm, sweet, joyous expression that moves the 
heart of the observer. On the opposite first pillar we 
saw another Madonna, of the fourteenth century and 
more primitive, — the so-called "Madonna of the 
Blind," which is supposed by the Paduans to have 
miraculous healing power. The second piers are faced 
by ornate, sculptured tombs of the Late Renaissance, 
— that on the right being of the famous Cardinal 
Bembo, poet and connoisseur, friend of the great, 
patron of artists and literati, whose "Paduan retreat 
became the rendezvous of all the ablest men in Italy, 
the centre of a fluctuating society of highest culture";^ 

^ J. A. Symonds, Renaissance in Italy. — Cattaneo modeled this bust 
at Rome, in 1552, under the oversight of Sansovino and Tiziano. 



68 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

and that on the left, of Alessandro Contarini, by 
Sammicheli, adorned with several of those hideous 
negro forms characteristic of the Venetian baroque. 

But one chapel opens from the aisles, that of the 
Sacrament, midway on the right, where we noticed 
two fine bronze gates, and the tombs of Gattamelata 
and his son, against the walls, in red, white and black 
marbles. Then we came to the right transept, which 
is occupied by the Chapel of S. Felice, as the left tran- 
sept is by the "Cappella del Santo," — two of the 
chief wonders of the place. We stood in the dusky 
nave, delighted, turning our eyes from the beauties of 
one chapel to the other, — from the exquisite marble 
screens which face them, to the rich bronzes, sculp- 
tures, paintings, hanging-lamps and silver candelabra 
glittering within; while between them towered the 
precious rood-screen with its saintly figures, backed 
by the great altar and bronzes of Donatello. Few 
other churches in Christendom can give just such a 
fairy scene of artistic splendor. 

The two^ chapel-screens alone are magnificent and 
unique; that to the right, of Gothic lines and highly 
colored marbles, built in 1372-76, — that on the left, 
of the Renaissance, glistening in white and azure 
marbles, and harmonious carvings; both are arcaded 
below, and adorned in the upper divisions by statues 
in regularly placed niches, by richly hued panels and 
dainty designs, by string-courses and pilasters with 
diversified reliefs; dainty relief -work also decorates 
the quoins and soffits of the arches; while in the 
pointed arches of the one hang fine old Oriental brass 
lamps, dimly burning, and through the rounded 
arches of the other gleam the beauties of its sanctuary 
under the massed candle-lights of its altar, — splen- 
did silver candelabra shaped into putti and flowers. 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 69 

bronze angel-statuettes, and, around the walls in 
recesses, a succession of large marble high-reliefs 
representing miracles of St. Anthony, — life-size 
figures that seem to move and breathe in the golden 
light. ^ 

This last was the "holy of holies"; for the Saint's 
body lay under its altar-top, ever attended by burning 
tapers, ever prayed over by the Franciscan brethren, 
ever worshiped by the endless stream of the devout, 
who knelt in rows of little chairs facing the sanctuary, 
and filed one by one around the altar to the rear of 
the sarcophagus, to kiss and weep against its marble 
block, and beg assistance in their troubles. "The 
nave was filled with decrepit women and feeble child- 
ren, kneeling by baskets of vegetables and other pro- 
visions, which, by good St. Anthony's interposition, 
they hoped to sell advantageously in the course of the 
day. Beyond these, nearer the choir, knelt a row of 
rueful penitents, smiting their breasts and lifting their 
eyes to heaven."^ 

In the Chapel of S. Felice we saw only a high cin- 
quecento altar, approached by steps with handsome 
railings, and surmounted by five saintly statuettes;^ 
but round upon the walls were those wonderful fres- 
coes, which follow Giotto's in interest as well as time, 
— the celebrated work of Altichieri and Jacopo 
d' Avanzo. How many times I have returned to study 

^ The brilliant Riccio was the designer of this Cappella del Santo, about 
1500, and directed its commencement; the work was continued by Gio- 
vanni Minello and Sansovino, until 1531, and thereafter finished by Fal- 
conetto. 

^ Beckford, Italy, vol. i. 

' This chapel was constructed for the Marchese di Soragna in 1372 by 
Andriolo, then head architect of the church; the five statues, also by his 
hand, represent the Marchese and his wife, and Saints Peter, Paul, and 
James. — Bartolomea degli Scrovegni, who is believed to have been 
poisoned by her husband, Masilio dalla Carrara, lies behind the altar. 



no PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

those pictures, rejoicing in their realism, power, and 
individuality. The genius, as is recognized to-day, 
was that of Altichieri, the founder of the school of 
Verona, who developed under the study of Giotto, 
and was the first great painter of North Italy to suc- 
ceed the master. This work was commenced by him, 
with d'Avanzo's assistance, in 1376. On the left wall, 
the lunettes of the rear wall, the spaces of the right 
wall beside the window, and the lunettes of the outer 
wall above the arches, is depicted, in eleven, large and 
small, graphic scenes, the legendary life of St. James, 
to whom the chapel was originally dedicated, — vivid, 
dramatic pictures, filled with striking figures of ex- 
traordinary lifelikeness, in both garb and action, and 
of high individual character, telling the story with 
conciseness and power. But, chief of all, from the 
whole space of the rear wall beneath the moulding, 
stand forth the hundred variegated figures of the 
tremendous Crucifixion. Sadly faded as they are from 
their pristine glory of brilliant coloring, damaged and 
obscured, cl6se inspection still reveals their strength 
of composition, drawing, and significance, combined 
in a realism never surpassed. 

Giotto's leadership and influence, of course, are 
everywhere visible : the backgrounds, perspective, and 
often the architecture show the same limitations; the 
tactile values, action, arid expression are as fine as 
anything of the master himself, and the realism in 
places is beyond him. The scene will ever linger in my 
memory that shines from the third lunette: a stretch 
of sandy seashore at dusk, before the castle of Queen 
Lupa, which rises in the rear, of decent proportions 
and sombre picturesqueness, with the Queen and her 
sister looking down from a balcony; on the beach the 
forms of Hermogenes and Philetes, just laying the 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 71 

body of St. James upon a long stone, which is shaping 
itself at the touch into a sarcophagus; finally, the 
waiting boat with its prow upon the strand, and a 
mysterious-looking angel holding the rudder. So 
mystic is the little scene, so dark and heavy in atmo- 
sphere and shadows, so weird in movement and expres- 
sion, so natural in drawing and perspective, that one 
finds a shudder stealing down his back. It is a finely 
spaced, effectively arranged, dramatic composition; 
and the others are not far behind it. 

But the Crucifixion is the chef-d'oeuvre, — an enorm- 
ous work, thirty feet or more in length, and perhaps 
fifteen feet high. In the already accepted fashion, 
the saints and friends of Christ are massed upon one 
side, the soldiers and enemies upon the other; the 
former weep, the latter scoff and cast dice for the gar- 
ments; and on the outskirts are many people engaged 
indifferently in their everyday occupations, with 
streets, buildings, gossip, barter, and the various 
domestic animals. These, however, are but the back- 
ground for the supreme tragedy, whose brutality is 
as well conveyed by the soldiers' callousness as is its 
poignant grief by the emotions of the saints. Remark- 
able figures are they, every one of that throng, — 
natural, yet highly individualized, garbed appropri- 
ately for the epoch, intensely alive, and marked with 
keen expressions. It is a work that would rank among 
the highest in any age of development, — yet how 
marvelous when we realize that it was done in that 
far-away, primitive trecento, by its crude methods, 
one of the first truly realistic crucifixions, if not the 
very first. 

"Altichieri combines many faults of those later 
Tuscan painters: exaggerated love of costume and 
finery, delight in detail, preoccupation with local 



72 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

color. . . . The accessories absorb him. . . . The spec- 
tator is in danger of forgetting the Figure upon the 
Cross. . . . Good quahties consist in clearness of 
narration, effective massing, and fine distances. The 
composition and facial types, fresh and memorable; 
the architecture handled with loving precision and 
perspective, though the naive and unmathematical is 
seldom wanting. The portrait-heads are individual- 
ized to the utmost limits permitted by form in that 
day, while to this gift of direct observation is added 
a power of rendering the thing seen, surpassed by 
Giotto alone." ^ 

We crossed the nave to the Cappella del Santo, and 
examined next its exquisitely carved pilasters,^ and 
the series of high-reliefs around its walls. There are 
nine scenes, commencing with the Ordination of St. 
Anthony on the left wall; the others represent certain 
of the miracles, four of them being resuscitations of 
dead persons. They were executed between 1500 and 
1530, by Sansovino, Tullio Lombardo, and several 
other artists of the Venetian school. Especially inter- 
esting we found the last scene, by Antonio Lombardo, 
in which the Saint is causing a little child to bear wit- 
ness in favor of its mother, and all the forms are very 
Greek in treatment, from that artist's study of the 
antique; while most beautiful of all to us was Giro- 
lamo Campagna's Resuscitation of a Youth, in which 
the figures are of an ideal beauty, grace, and tense 
significance. As we examined those on the back wall 
the steady stream of devotees kept passing by the 
holy tomb, mostly women of the lower class, who laid 

1 Berenson, North Italian Painters. 

^ One of these beautiful pilasters, by Girolamo Pironi of Vicenza, is 
especially remarkable for the delicate grace of its grapevines, with birds, 
snakes, etc., among the leaves, wrought with elaborate accuracy. 




PADUA. ALTAR WITH BRONZES. (DONATELLO.) 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 73 

their heads and lips against the marble altar-back, 
pressed to it rosaries and other objects for a blessing, 
and repeated their prayers aloud ecstatically; some- 
times they wept and moaned, in an emotion that 
regarded none surrounding. I wished that I might 
have such comforting faith in the powers of the in- 
animate. 

After looking also at the richly sculptured silver 
candelabra, and the white and gold decoration of the 
ceiling that completed the effect, we entered by a 
small doorway an adjacent chapel on the east, filled 
with contrasting gloom, in which still forms knelt 
murmuring before an altar, and through which softly 
percolated the picturesque hues of old frescoes and 
the colored marbles of medieval tombs. This was the 
Cappella della Madonna Mora, the only remaining 
portion of the earlier Church of S. Maria Mater 
Domini, which stood upon this ground in St. An- 
thony's day. In 1852 the chapel was carefully re- 
stored; but there still stands upon its altar the statue 
of the "Madonna Mora" (a black-faced image) which 
the Saint was wont to adore. Off from it on the north 
opens a smaller chapel, a recess whose walls are cov- 
ered with ruined, retouched frescoes of Giusto Pada- 
vano, now of little worth. In the adjacent left aisle of 
the church, which here is prolonged as an ambulatory 
around the choir, we noticed the peculiar baroque 
monument of Caterino Cornaro, father of the Caterina 
whom Venice adopted as the Republic's daughter, 
and gave as a bride to the King of Cyprus; then we 
made the circuit of the ambulatory, peering through 
the locked wickets of its seven successive chapels, at 
the modern frescoes and sculptures adorning them. 

The central one of these, — the Cappella del Te- 
soro, or Sanctuary, constructed by Perodi about 1690, 



74 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

— lying directly behind the high-altar, is lavishly 
decorated with marbles and gold-leaf, and contains 
some remarkable relics (shown by the monks for 
three and one half lire) — such as fine gold-work of 
the cinquecento, and the chin, tongue, hair, and other 
pleasant fragments of St. Anthony. The other six 
chapels have been allotted to and decorated by the 
different chief nationalities; that at the north end 
best pleased us by some really fine modern paintings 
of New Testament scenes, extraordinary in that the 
artist had achieved, for once, the Early Renaissance 
simplicity and strength of composition and color. 
After all, I thought, we could paint to-day as well as 
four centuries ago, if our artists would thus return 
to the great precepts and the uplifting themes; but 
my mind wandered sadly to the recent Venetian art 
exhibition of late canvases from all over Europe, in 
whose thousands there were few indeed that were 
not petty, in subject, in composition, in dignity, and 
heart-appeal. We puny moderns paint things without 
true feeling,' or elevation, and try to make up for the 
lack of heart-interest by tricks of atmosphere and 
manner. I fear that our art will never be great again, 
until we return to the methods that glorified it in the 
past, with minds reattuned to simplicity and truth. 

From the southern end of the ambulatory we 
mounted at last, by a few steps through a side door, 
into the elevated choir. Several assistant sacristans 
were constantly engaged in exhibiting its beauties to 
the unceasing throng of visitors, — chiefly pilgrims 
to the shrine. Our attention was first drawn to the 
two sides of the marble screen, separating the choir 
from the aisles, which were designed by Donatello; 
they were of solid construction, some ten feet or more 
in height, adorned with pilasters, panels, and patterns 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 75 

of white and colored marbles; and each carried six 
bronze plates of reliefs, from the Old Testament, 
about two feet square — ten of them by Bellano 
(1488), the Paduan sculptor who learned from Dona- 
tello, and two by his pupil Andrea Riccio (1507) — 
like paintings in their wealth of background, detail, 
and crowds of small figures in dramatic, action. 
Riccio's, as Mr. Perkins said, "at once place him on 
a higher level than his master." The whole constitute 
an effect of remarkable splendor and beauty; while 
each plate is a study, in itself, of the possibilities of 
bronze in vivid portrayal. 

Fascinating as were these to us, they were forgotten 
when we turned to the altar. This was reconstructed 
in 1895 after Donatello's original design, and adorned 
upon both sides with his exquisite bronze reliefs. The 
main body is raised upon five steps of precious mar- 
bles, and faced completely with bronze placques, — a 
central square, representing the half-figure of Christ 
with two little angels lowering it to the tomb, and ten 
oblong panels, containing the master's celebrated 
little angel-musicians, with two more of them on the 
ends. They are utterly charming, these rounded baby- 
figures, blowing with puffed cheeks upon their various 
instruments. At the rear of this base rises the ante- 
pendium, of glistening Carrara cut into lovely pilas- 
ters, panels, and a wreathed cornice, and faced with 
three larger bronzes : a square Pieta in the centre, and 
two wide plates, representing miracles of St. Anthony, 
at the sides. The two last, with their two companion 
pieces on the altar's back, are the finest work of all, 
truly wonderful in their perspective, handling of 
masses, and expressiveness. Fitly topping all this are 
the seven life-size bronze statues rising above, and the 
crucifix rising again above them, bearing a form of 



76 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Christ that seems unsurpassed, for its union of realism 
with grace. A quaint Madonna stands just below His 
feet, holding her Babe, with Saints Francis and An- 
thony at her sides. All but the two sainted bishops 
on the ends are from the master's own hands. 

Here, then, are gathered upon one altar a score and 
a half of the world's greatest masterpieces of sculp- 
ture. We understood their perfection when we stopped 
to remember that Donatello came to Padua at the 
very height of his powers. "The third period of 
Donatello's artistic development, comprising the 
years (1444-54) spent at Padua, is the time of matur- 
ity in technical skill and in range of thought. Dona- 
tello is now fifty-eight years old; for about forty years 
he has been constantly studying nature, the antique, 
and his trade. One might reasonably expect, then, to 
find in this, the only important commission outside of 
his own city, a tour deforce. And such it is : for it com- 
prises reliefs which are his masterpieces in relief, sep- 
arate statues of great character and beauty, and much 
ornamental detail exquisitely designed and wrought. 
... In artists like Donatello, however, the energy of 
imagination is so great that it extends itself over a 
broader field, and the intelligence is so penetrating 
that it sees in each object its own significant features. 
Therefore we have sculpture ranging in technique 
from the equestrian statue of Gattamelata to the 
delicate bas-relief of the young St. John, and in sub- 
ject, from the joy of singing children to the agonized 
repentance of a Magdalen." ^ 

There is one more masterpiece in this choir, that of 
Riccio, — a magnificent bronze candelabrum nearly 
twelve feet high, formed into a great variety of lovely 
designs and figures from Christian and heathen lore, 

^ Freeman, Italian Sculptors, chap. v. 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 77 

upon a half-dozen graduated divisions.^ Also inter- 
esting is the full-length, contemporary portrait of St. 
Anthony, which is said to be his most accurate like- 
ness, — placed near the left-hand entrance. After 
examining this, we had just enough of the day left to 
pay a visit to the buildings adjoining the church on 
the south, which are entered by doors in the right 
aisle. We saw the large Chiostro del Capitolo, with 
its handsome Gothic arcades and medieval tombs; the 
small Chiostro del Noviziato, the rooms above which 
are still occupied by the friars; the sacristy, with its 
tarsia-work from Squarcione's designs and its marble 
ornamentation by Bellano; and other rooms and pass- 
ages occupied by Gothic tombs. Here was formerly 
the "bellissima cappella" of S. Jacopo, — spoken of by 
Vasari as having been so splendidly frescoed by Giotto, 
— which is probably identical with the later chapter- 
house; the frescoes, alas, have long disappeared, 
although the brethren exhibit some alleged fragments 
of them in a row of ruined saints in the "Cappella del 
Capitolo." Still more fragmentary we found the re- 
mains of the cloister in which St. Anthony used to 
walk, belonging to the former Church of S. Maria, — 
a small, broken colonnade behind the apse, adorned 
with Gothic bits of terra-cotta. 

On the next day we visited the buildings which 
extend from the southwest angle of the church along 
the south side of its piazza, — little brick structures 
of Gothic lines and Romanesque cornices, with long 
homely brick pilasters dividing their fagades, in Lom- 

1 It was "by this magnificent Paschal candlestick," said Perkins, in his 
Italian Sculptors, that Andrea Briosco, called Riccio from his curling hair, 
obtained his great reputation. "This noble work of art is divided by rich 
cornices — and is crowned by a rich vase. . . . Every portion is wrought out 
with the utmost care, not a detail neglected, nor is any part of its surface 
unadorned." 



78 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

bard fashion. The jfirst is but the screen of an ancient 
graveyard, whose monuments are visible through its 
pointed gateway; the second is the flat-gabled "Cap- 
pella S. Giorgio," which Altichieri and d' Avanzo have 
made immortal. One of the church's sacristans 
brought a huge key that opened the door of the 
simple; round-arched entrance, locked us within, and 
went away again, saying that he would return in a 
half-hour. We hardly noticed it, so affected were we 
by the sight of that extraordinary nave: the whole four 
walls are frescoed from top to bottom in one vast mass 
of brightly colored dramatic scenes, whose hundreds of 
life-size figures, clad in costumes and armor of old, stand 
forth with vivid power, — moving, struggling, tortur- 
ing, pressing in brilliant throngs, before backgrounds 
of fanciful architecture. There are twenty-two large 
tableaux, some much injured, some almost entirely de- 
faced; but the majority have a remarkable brightness, 
with joyous colorings that brought to our realization 
the pristine brilliancy of such pictures of the trecento. 
The storie^ that they portray are of strong and 
tragic interest : the legends of St. Lucia and St. Cate- 
rina on the right wall, that of St. George on the left; 
the Crucifixion and Coronation of the Virgin are 
on the altar-wall, and by the entrance, the Annuncia- 
tion, Adorations of the Shepherds and the Magi, the 
Circumcision, and the Flight into Egypt. Especially 
stamped upon my mind is the scene of St. Lucia being 
taken to execution, where she has refused to move, and 
the oxen harnessed to drag her have fallen to their 
knees; upon her pure uplifted face is an expression of 
sublime confidence in the divine goodness that one 
cannot easily forget.^ The execution of St. Catherine 

^ "She stands as unmoved and still as if communing with God in the 
midst of a desert, — her whole figure and attitude, her utter, effortless. 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 79 

also is of unusual expressiveness and power, — the 
same profound feelings being manifest in her sweet 
countenance, while the wheel that was to rack her 
flies asunder. The scenes as to St. George are filled 
with very forceful knightly figures, clad in glistening 
chain-armor. Through all the pictures the realism is 
unbroken, of wonderfully accurate drawing and solid- 
ity for the period, with dignified movement, and ex- 
ceeding power of disposition and expression. Every 
time that I have seen these frescoes I have been more 
impressed by their superiority in such respects to any 
that followed them for a hundred years; while for 
pure, deep feeling they have seldom been surpassed 
in any epoch. In them, said Layard, "the spirit of 
Christian chivalry finds, for the first and almost for 
the last time, its voice in the painting of Italy." In 
the power, too, that is here displayed, of handling 
crowds, of balancing masses, and managing so as to 
bring out strongly and pointedly the chief idea of 
every tableau, Altichieri stands preeminent. These 
works of his should certainly be more appreciated and 
studied by the world at large than they have been 
hitherto.^ 

From the chapel we finally stepped next door, to 
the so-called "Scuola del Santo," a building erected 
by the Brotherhood of St. Anthony in 1499-1505, 
according to the customary model of those fraternity- 

unresistant immobility, forming the most marked contrast with the 
frenzied efiforts of the oxen, and the rabid rage of her persecutors." — Lord 
Lindsay. 

^ "Every variety of character" — wrote Lord Lindsay in his Christian 
Art — " is discriminated with a degree of truth that startles one; — feeling, 
simplicity, and good taste, prevail throughout; — there are crowds of 
figures, but no confusion; the coloring is soft and pleasing, the backgrounds 
are more usually of the most gorgeous and exquisite architecture. The 
author comes very near Masaccio in his peculiar merits, while in Christian 
feeling, invention, and even in composition, he surpasses him." 



80 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

schools, with a large meeting-hall upon the upper 
floor. Around the four walls of this hall, above the 
wainscoting, extend seventeen large frescoes, painted 
in different centuries, from the fifteenth to the eight- 
eenth, representing — of course — events of the Saint's 
life. They were not clearly discernible to us by the 
dim light from the grimy windows, nor was the parrot- 
like chatter more enlightening, of the crone who fol- 
lowed us about, and responded to questions simply 
by repeating her monologue. The best of the pictures 
are the three done by Dom. Campagnola, and the 
three by Titian;^ though all are badly injured and 
some ruined completely. Titian's have also been so 
spoiled by restorations as to be no representations 
of his power; they portray certain of the Saint's 
miracles, — the causing of the infant to give evidence 
for its accused mother (number 1), the resuscitation 
of the wife slain by her husband (number 11), and 
the healing of the boy who cut off his foot in remorse 
for having struck his mother (number 12). 

On leaving the hall, as our eyes were somewhat 
tired of painting, we walked around to the famous old 
botanical garden of Padua, founded in 1545, which 
lies close by on the south. The narrow street leading 
from the piazza in that direction took us across two 
small arms of the Bacchiglione, the second of which 
runs just before the garden and is prettily shadowed 
by its leaning trees and bushes. Through a locked 
iron gate we could see graveled paths winding off 
through the cool shade of the wood, lined by many 
varieties of shrubs, — an inviting contrast to the 

^ These, and the rest of Titian's frescoes executed in Padua, were 
painted by him at an early age, about 1511, when he resided here for a 
while on account of the financial depression and other troubles in Venice, 
caused by the war of the League of Cambrai. 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 81 

heat and glare of the sun. We pulled a wire that 
rang a bell, and were shortly admitted by an intel- 
ligent caretaker, who conducted us over the grounds. 
Surprise and pleasure filled us at the size and beauty 
of the giant trees that surrounded us on all sides, 
shutting off in a moment that medieval Italy in which 
we had been living, with its shadeless plain, and bare 
streets and piazzas, transporting us apparently to 
some quiet English dell; a charming transition, 
which made me suddenly realize that all Lombardy 
could be like this, covered with great trees and lawns 
and copses, would men permit it. It has the neces- 
sary deep soil, the temperate climate, the rainfall; 
and must have been so covered in bygone ages. All 
the monarchs of the North were here, — elms, oaks, 
and beeches, as grand as any of English pride. We 
saw the hickory that is one hundred and fifty years 
old and one hundred and twenty feet tall, the aged, 
hollow plane tree (dating from 1680) that is the an- 
cestor of all the planes in western Europe, and, finally, 
inclosed in a many-sided house of its own, the cele- 
brated palm (ChamcBTops humilis) planted about 
1580, that was so admired by Goethe on his visit of 
1786. The front side of its dwelling was now open (it 
is closed only in winter-time) and we could clearly 
see the dozen different trunks, within the close foliage, 
that raise it sixty feet or so from the ground, into an 
imposing yet graceful mass. 

This stands in the eastern portion of the grounds, 
which is laid out as a wide extent of flower-beds and 
squares of shrubs, with a long greenhouse running 
along the outer side, and other palms and exotic 
plants scattered about. Here are countless varieties 
of growth usually unknown to the Temperate Zone, 
and many others brought from the Orient. "It is 



82 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

pleasant and instructive," said Goethe, "to walk 
through a vegetation that is new to us. With ordin- 
ary plants, as well as with other objects that have 
been long familiar to us, we at last do not think at 
all; and what is looking without thinking?"^ 

That afternoon we completed the sights of the Pi- 
azza of S. Antonio by paying our visit to the Museo 
Civico, which is next to the Scuola del Santo, and like 
it occupies a portion of the old monastery buildings. 
A handsome aspect has, however, been given it by 
a modern marble fagade of Renaissance lines, and a 
truly beautiful modern staircase, all of white stone, 
on the left of the entrance hall. The end of this hall 
opens into an old arcaded cortile of the friars, pictur- 
esquely occupied now, in corridors and centre, by 
an assemblage of ancient sarcophagi, monuments, 
and bits of sculpture, including the fragments of a 
Roman temple excavated from the ancient forum, on 
the site of the Gaffe Pedrocchi. The upper front hall, 
into which the stairway debouches, has been richly 
built over, and filled with many casts of the most 
renowned antique sculptures ; through a glass door it 
is continued as a book-lined gallery of the library, 
but before this door another one to the left opens into 
the first hall of the paintings. 

All of Padua's great pictures, as has been seen, lie 
without this collection, which is neither extensive nor 
distinguished; yet it contains a number of works that 
always afford one pleasure. In the first salon, which 
consists of three rooms thrown into one and still 
partially divided, there hang a good Palma Vecchio, 
a Madonna with two saints, of his usual warm rich 
coloring and tone, with a beautifully graduated land- 
scape; a landscape by Giorgione, that well exhibits 

^ Goethe, Autobiography: Letters from Switzerland and Traveli in Italy. 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 83 

his powers of perspective and atmosphere; an unfin- 
ished Titian^ with half-figures of Christ, three apostles 
and three other persons, of strong realism and individ- 
uality; and a delightful example of that fine cinque- 
centist, Boccaccio Boccaccino, of Cremona, who has 
not yet come fully into his own, — a Madonna with 
two female saints, much faded in its delicate tints, 
but still showing his characteristic tone of golden 
shades, his soft flesh-work, and peculiar grace. All 
three figures are painted from the same model, which 
he used so constantly. In the centre of the room is a 
superb, unusual, Japanese vase of large size, brilliantly 
decorated with warriors in full suits of their curious 
ancient armor, on wide fields of snow, — of a com- 
position and perspective almost Occidental. 

The second room, running to the right from near 
the end, showed us greater treasures: foremost among 
them, three Giovanni Bellini Madonnas, one of which 
(415) is especially well preserved, with rich broad 
hues of green and orange and crimson, and the far 
blue peaks of the Alps in the rear, as seen across the 
Lagoon ; one of his brother's characteristic processions 
of people in sixteenth-century garb, and animals, 
before a town of that epoch, with many churches and 
towers looking over its heavy walls, — labeled the 
"Visit of the Magi"; one of Francia's calm, sweet- 
faced Madonnas, surrounded with angels, exquisitely 
moulded and finished; one of Antonello da Messina's 
realistic portraits, of a man of forty much in need of 
a shave; another Madonna by Boccaccino, with that 
lovely limpid eye which he developed; a splendid 
Holy Family by Garofalo, in an extraordinary back- 
ground of land and sea and distant blue mountains, 
of very fine modeling, subdued coloring, and skillful 
use of light, — though his lack of genius emerges in 



84 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the want of expression; lastly, an important example 
of Pordenone, — a Madonna with two saints, wanting 
in emotion, but of that soft, rich tone and coloring, 
which mark him so distinctively. Later in the year, 
when I was searching over various Friulan towns for 
works of Pordenone, I wished that I could find others 
of this excellence. 

The third hall opened at the extreme end of the 
first, extending far to the right, lighted only from its 
lofty ceiling, and glowing with the countless hues of a 
hundred large canvases, that led up to one great mas- 
terpiece on the end wall : it was in a massive gold frame 
of exceptional richness, — the chef-d'oeuvre of the gal- 
lery, the Madonna and Saints of Romanino. We 
approached at once to examine it. It is rare to find 
Romanino's work far from Brescia, and this is an 
excellent specimen. The Madonna sits enthroned, of 
life-size, holding her Child, with four saints standing 
at the sides, a girlish child-angel seated on the step 
of the throne, playing a tambourine, and two others 
holding a crt)wn over the Madonna's head. It is a 
splendid display of deep, harmonious coloring, based 
upon the lovely rose-shade of the Virgin's gown, and 
glittering with much gold. Very graceful, too, are the 
figures and composition, in that master's usual full 
curves; but, like so many of his works, it lacks feeling 
and expression. It is pietistic on the surface only, — 
repose without joy of soul. In the same room are two 
more of his paintings, smaller, — another Madonna 
and Saints, of similar qualities, and a Last Supper 
poorly composed. We noticed two Tintorettos — one 
a portrait, the other a realistic scene of the Magdalen 
washing Jesus' feet, very fine in atmosphere, natural 
disposition, and expression. There were also two ex- 
pressive portraits of Venetian patricians by Titian; 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 85 

an overcrowded, undignified Paolo Veronese; an ex- 
cellent Tiepolo, at that master's best, representing 
S. Patrizio preaching to the people in his bishop's 
robes; and, best of all, a very beautiful Previtali, a 
signed panel of Madonna, Child, and a donor, radiat- 
ing indescribable charm from its golden light-effect, 
luminous atmosphere, and softness of countenance. 

Also belonging to the Museo Civico, and well worth 
examination by any one who has the time, are various 
lesser collections: majolica- ware, porcelain, cameos, 
bronzes, ivory-carvings, wood-carvings, laces, coins 
and medals, tapestries, miniatures, autographs, text- 
iles, old costumes and furniture, etc.; besides the 
prehistoric and Roman antiquities, the geological col- 
lection, the modern paintings and sculptures, and 
the precious documents amongst the archives. The 
library, too, contains many valuable works. 

In the eastern part of the huge southern section of 
the city, there are, besides the Orto Botanico already 
described, two prominent objects of unusual interest; 
and one of them is very unusual. This is the vast 
piazza known for recent ages by the name of "Prato 
della Valle," now misnamed Piazza Vittorio Emanuele 
II, distant a couple of blocks to the west of the Botani- 
cal Garden. Its popular name during the Middle Ages 
and the Renaissance, and still occasionally heard, was 
the Zairo, — a corruption of the Latin theatro; for here 
the Romans had an immense theatre, in which, ac- 
cording to Strabo and Tacitus, they celebrated once 
every thirty years the games commemorating Ante- 
nor's founding of the city. The medieval bishops and 
nobles used the building as a quarry, so that its stones 
and marbles are scattered through the walls of Padua. 
The later name, Prato della Valle, records the marshy 
nature of the ground. 



86 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

We first went down there on a lovely summer 
morning, when there was not a cloud in the sky, and 
the sun was already beginning to render the baked 
streets uncomfortable. It was consequently a marked 
relief to emerge upon that great open space of mov- 
ing airs, and feast our eyes upon the luxuriant foliage 
of its wooded central oval, which preserves the out- 
line of the ancient theatre. Hundreds of huge plane 
trees were there, solidly massed, with graveled walks 
percolating their shade, surrounded by a stone-banked 
canal of flowing water that coolly reflected the leafy 
boughs bending far overhead. Across the water led 
four ornamental bridges from the four sides of the 
oval, — to one of which we hurried, through the in- 
tense glare and heat of the down-beating sun. 

This much was ordinary; but on the balustrades of 
the bridges, and the parapets of the canal all around 
the extended circle, rises a procession of heroic statues 
of every age, so numerous and so varied that at the 
first sight one can only stare in bewilderment. Surely 
so many statues were never elsewhere gathered in one 
place. It is like a city of people of stone. They stand 
in every sort of costume of the bygone centuries, in 
every kind of posture, from every rank of human 
greatness, — poets, generals, philosophers, kings, 
statesmen, princes, professors, literati, — all the men 
of note who have at any time attended Padua's Uni- 
versity, to teach or to learn. Not Padua alone has 
erected them, but cities and courts all over Europe, 
to perpetuate the memory of their illustrious sons. 
The four bridges are distinguished by the company 
of popes and doges, in all the grandeur of their crowns 
and ceremonial robes; but the dignity of these, and 
too many others, unfortunately, is marred by their 
baroque style of scu-lpture, — the wind-tossed, cum- 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 87 

brous, convoluted garments, convulsive attitudes, 
and wild gestures that make us shrink away.^ It is 
only, however, when one stands here, looking at the 
far-extended throng of immortals, that he fully real- 
izes what a part in history has been played by the 
University of Padua. 

Walking in the refreshing shade of the mighty plane 
trees, our eyes turned from the statuary to the far 
lines of buildings fronting the piazza. Nearly all were 
simple three-storied dwellings, some on the north and 
east being ensconced in the green of little gardens ; but 
in the centre of the west side our gaze was caught by 
a larger, ornamental structure of red brick, faced 
by two imposing Gothic arcades, the upper twice the 
height of the lower. It was the so-called Loggia Muni- 
cipale, or Amulea, an excellent example of the possi- 
bilities of brick in graceful dignity and power. It is 
little used except on that annual occasion when this 
whole immense space becomes alive and teeming, — 
the yearly fair of the Festival of St. Anthony, June 
13-16; then does the deserted piazza blossom far and 
wide with the crowded umbrellas, tents and canvas 
roofs of traders and entertainers from all over Italy; 
while these groves resound with music and the laugh- 
ter of thousands, these avenues reecho with the hoof- 
beats and cheers of horse-races, and from those Gothic 
loggie orators speak, and authorities bestow the prizes. 
It is one of the last, great, characteristic Italian fairs 
remaining to us from the Middle Ages; and is spe- 
cially interesting because its inauguration, in 1275, 
was made to celebrate the city's release from the 

^ It was this "vulgar, flaunting statuary" that roused the wrath of 
Mr. WilUam Hazlitt; "the most clumsy, afifected, paltry, sprawling figures 
cut in stone, that ever disgraced the chisel!" (Hazlitt's Journey through 
France and Italy in 1826.) And yet they are but ordinary, everyday 
baroque-work. 



88 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

terrible clutches of Ezzelino. All over Italy, too, that 
festival of St. Anthony, protector of children, is cele- 
brated with churchly pomp. We had been in Venice 
when last it occurred, and well remembered the holy 
week of services, fasting, and entertainments, in all 
the parishes of the city. Many important events oc- 
curred on this broad area during the Middle Ages, 
when it had become a desolate swamp, outside the 
city walls. It was the scene of many a desperate battle 
between the Paduans and besieging foes. Here Pietro 
della Vigna made his memorable speech to the citizens, 
on behalf of the Emperor Frederick II. It was never 
fully drained again until the eighteenth century, when 
the Venetian Government dug the present elliptical 
canal, with its trees and statues. 

Our stroll was finally turned to the southeast, 
where we observed the piazza to be dominated by 
a massive pile of religious buildings, the foremost of 
which was a huge church topped by various Byzantine 
domes, with a tall, unfinished, rough-brick fagade, 
above a flight of wide-spreading steps. They were the 
convent and church of S. Giustina, the renowned 
female saint of Padua, who was the daughter of the 
barbarian King Vitalicino (or Vitaliano) and was 
martyred by the Emperor Maximian. According to 
the legend, Venetia's conversion to Christianity was 
commenced by St. Mark, and upon the latter's call to 
Rome by St. Peter, was continued by St. Prosdocimo, 
St. Mark's disciple, who became the first Bishop of 
Padua. By healing hundreds of sufferers afflicted with 
the plague, he won the attention and belief of the 
barbarian monarch, Vitalicino, then holding sway at 
Padua, who was forthwith baptized, together with his 
daughter and all his court. Giustina devoted her life 
to the cause, and died rather than yield herself to 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 89 

Maximian. She and Prosdocimo therefore became the 
city's patron saints; which glory they shared until 
St. Anthony was added to them, in 1232. 

We crossed to the church, which was jfirst built in 
453, when its wealth of treasures and embellishments 
drew the praises of several of the early chroniclers. 
That edifice, however, was finally demolished by the 
great earthquake of 1117. This, the third church, was 
commenced in 1502 from the plans of the brilliant 
architect, Fra Girolamo of Brescia, and carried grad- 
ually to completion through the genius of Andrea 
Briosco (or Riccio), Alessandro Leopardi of Venice, 
and Andrea Morone of Bergamo. The result is an 
undying monument to their abilities. Two relics still 
survive from the earliest edifice, — the pair of medi- 
eval lions, or griflSns, flanking the main portal. 

The extensive convent, with its several fine cloisters, 
has now been handed over to the soldiery, whom we 
saw lolling about the doorways on the right. It was 
there that the Emperor Frederick II stayed, with his 
brilliant retinue of knights and noblemen, when visit- 
ing Ezzelino in January, 1239; and the latter provided 
him with shows and entertainments of such magnifi- 
cence, that he felt obliged to declare he had never any- 
where seen their equal. Mounting the church steps, 
and running successfully the gauntlet of the many beg- 
gars waiting to waylay pilgrims, we entered at once 
the nave, which is of splendid Renaissance lines and 
impressive proportions. A sense of exceeding spacious- 
ness and beauty enveloped us, purely from the size and 
harmony of the parts; for all has been whitewashed, 
save the brown capitals of the pilasters, the cornice, 
and the yellowish ribs of the lofty, arched roof. The 
choir contributes sensibly to the effect, with its wide 
semicircle of rich oak stalls, radiating, as a sculptured 



90 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

whole, a thousand exquisite curved lines and surfaces ; 
and the five domes far overhead lend their majesty. 
All of these imposing features, in spite of the absence 
of rich marbles and sculpture, as Sir Henry Wotton 
felt impelled to remark, "do yet ravish the beholder 
(and he knows not how) by a secret harmony in the 
proportions."^ It is one of the finest examples of 
the pure classical revival, adapted to ecclesiastical uses. 
The nave, three hundred and sixty-four feet long by 
ninety-eight feet wide, is flanked by lofty aisles and 
rows of chapels ; and the spacious transept reaches a 
breadth of two hundred and fifty feet. 

In the right aisle we found a fine canvas by Luca 
Giordano over the fourth altar, — the Death of St. 
Scholastica, of deep expressiveness and true genius, — ■ 
and a less worthy Palma Giovane over the fifth, repre- 
senting St. Benedict and his disciples. At the end of 
the right transept an open passage led us to two dark, 
curious little chapels, occupied by a number of pray- 
ing devotees: the first containing a well, at the bottom 
of which lie the bones of many early Paduan martyrs, 
a grating into the former prison of S. Daniele, and, 
adjacent below, the catacomb holding the original 
graves of S. Giustina and S. Prosdocimo. It seems 
that in the year 1050 the then bishop, Bernando, was 
granted a vision during his sleep, in which he saw the 
bodies of St. Julian and many other martyrs, buried 
here underground; whereupon he proceeded to exca- 
vate, discovering not only the remains revealed during 
his slumber, but also the corpses of St. Maximus and 
St. Felicita. Such was the origin of the well. As for 
Saints Giustina and Prosdocimo, the former now lies 
beneath the high-altar of the church, and the latter, 
under the side-altar devoted to his worship. 

^ L. P. Smith, Sir Henry Wotton ; Life and Letters, 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 91 

The second chapel, of S. Luca, was adorned with 
a recumbent statue of the latter saint before the altar, 
some frescoes by Campagnola, and over the altar a 
painted, gold-framed head of the Madonna, alleged 
to have been brought from Constantinople in the 
eighth century, and to be very holy. It was this last 
object that the devout were worshiping, including a 
country parish priest who told me in an awed whisper 
of the miracles which it had peformed. I responded 
that it looked to me exceedingly like a very modern 
painting, which could not be at best over a hundred 
years old ; whereat the good man was deeply horrified, 
and assured me fervently that the legend was true. 

We returned to the nave, at whose upper end, in a 
chapel to the right of the choir, is a beautiful marble 
Pietd, of several life-size figures, — a seventeenth-cen- 
tury work, by Parodi, remarkably executed and of 
much feeling. Then we inspected the striking choir- 
stalls. They are divided by double arms, the lower 
of which are all carved alike, but the upper all dif- 
ferently; from the latter rise slim, oak, Corinthian 
columns to the rich entablature, upon which stand 
charming putti between the head-pieces; while on 
each back are two scenes cut in relief, the lower 
from the Old Testament and the upper from the New, 
different with every stall. These reliefs were executed 
from designs by Campagnola about 1556, and are not 
individually of much excellence; but the whole effect 
is extraordinarily pleasing. It is greatly added to by 
the huge canvas of Paolo Veronese on the end wall, 
with its beautiful gilded frame, whose double columns 
on each side and heavy entablature are in form and 
size somewhat like a Corinthian temple; the picture, 
representing the martyrdom of S. Giustina, though 
riotous in rich colors, has the faults of Veronese's 



92 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

later works in being too crowded, diffuse and unrest- 
f ul, — in a word, unsatisfactory, almost unmeaning, 
upon closer inspection. 

By a door to right of the choir, through a long pass- 
age, we visited the remaining fragment of the original, 
early church, — its choir, which has stalls with panels 
of tarsia- work that are quaint but not unusual; then 
we returned to the left transept, and inspected the 
church's most interesting relic. This is an iron case 
against the north wall, barred with strips of iron 
across its open top, but permitting one to see within 
two coffins, one inside the other, mouldering in deep 
decay : the very coffers in which the body of St. Luke 
(according to the legend) was carried from Constan- 
tinople to Venice in 1177. There is said to be some 
possibility of truth in the story; at any rate, it brought 
vividly home to me, as never before, a sense of the 
actual corporeal existence of those figures usually so 
mystical, — our Saviour and his apostles. Under the 
tomb in the centre of this transept, also, which is 
handsomely adorned with serpentine and alabaster, 
are alleged to lie some of the portions of St. Luke's 
earthly frame. 

Another interesting place in this same quarter of 
the city is the garden of the Palazzo Giustinian, which 
we found not far from S. Antonio, on the north side of 
the Via Cesarotti running eastward from the Piazza 
del Santo. The palazzo itself is a later construction, on 
the site of the Early-Renaissance palace of Alvise Cor- 
naro; but in the garden to the rear still remain the 
delightful casino, loggia, and arcades built for Cor- 
naro by Falconetto, about 1524. The latter was then 
over sixty years of age, at the height of his powers. 
Bart. Ridolfi collaborated in executing the rich stucco 
decorations, and Dom. Campagnola in painting the 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 93 

Raphaelesque frescoes. Their combined work produced 
a charming example of the fanciful, high-Renaissance, 
palatial architecture and decoration, on mythological 
lines, in the manner of Giulio Romano that glorified 
the superb Reggia of the Gonzaghi; almost the only 
example of that work still remaining to Padua, and, 
considering all things, in fair condition. The two- 
storied arcades, prettily draped with vines, connect 
the rear loggia with the casino, and the latter with the 
palace, running along their eastern sides. The loggia, 
consists of open arcades surmounted by a single large 
hall, used for banquets; a purely classical, stone struc- 
ture, adorned with statues in external niches, and 
stucco-framed frescoes in the archways. In the casino 
many small rooms, elegantly decorated on their ceil- 
ings with stucchi and arabesques, surround the octa- 
gonal music-room of the ground floor and the open 
loggia of the upper; the latter, as well as the portal, 
being further adorned with marble divinities posed in 
niches. 

There was another prominent building of Padua 
which we had not yet visited, — the so-called Scuola 
del Carmine, adjacent to the church of that name 
which we had passed on our walk to and from the sta- 
tion. I remember that we went to it on the afternoon 
of this same day; and after briefly looking over the 
well-proportioned church, with its excellent specimen 
of Varotari (Padovanino) on the last altar to the right, 
we were passing through the passage on the east side 
leading to the annexed cloister, when we encount- 
ered the parroco himself. He was a tall, spare, broad- 
shouldered man of about forty, neatly dressed, with 
classic, intellectual features and handsome eyes, — 
one of that fine type of Italian gentlemen, courteous 
and learned, who cheerfully resign all ambitions for 



94 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

a life of well-doing and brotherly love. He was in- 
stantly interested in our quest and in rendering us 
what service he could: took us into the cloister, 
where a number of small boys were playing, pointed 
out the beauties of its old columns and arches, told us 
of the school which had taken the place of the bygone 
monks, and finally conducted us to the former oratorio, 
— a large chamber next the street, — where he ex- 
plained with eloquent criticism the frescoes covering 
its walls. Then with rare thoughtfulness and dignity 
he left us alone to consider the paintings, impressed 
deeply by his powerful but delightful personality. 

"You see," I said to my companions, "there are 
still Italians like Doctor Antonio." Yet this was no 
very exceptional parroco; hundreds such, perhaps 
thousands, live their modest, unselfish lives, all over 
Italy; I have met a score of them myself, first and last. 

The frescoes that still shone brightly from the four 
walls of the low-roofed chapel, were divided into a dozen 
large scenes, with figures near life-size, impressively 
scattered before charming landscapes and architect- 
ure, — of striking differences in style and treatment, 
yet all of light tone and coloring, and collectively of 
most engaging effect. They portray scenes from the 
life of the Virgin and her parents, and were executed 
by Titian and several Paduan cinquecentists. The 
poorest, ascribed to the lesser artist, Dario Campag- 
nola, are fortunately on the window wall ; on the long 
space of the left wall are- four by Girolamo da Santa 
Croce, better than most of his other preserved works, 
of a composition and movement that are dignified, 
graceful, and pleasing, though lacking in individual 
grace of feature, and expression; their realism, too, 
is injured by the too general introduction of six- 
teenth-century costumes alongside the Biblical per- 



PADUA AND S. ANTONIO 95 

sonages. In the Sposalizio young long-hosed gallants 
of the cinquecento even stand on the platform beside 
the bridegroom. By some critics these four tableaux 
are accredited to Giulio Campagnola, the father of 
Titian's pupil, Domenico. The three pictures of the 
Nativity, the Circumcision, and the Magi, on the 
entrance-wall, by Dom. Campagnola, have figures 
more natural and better modeled, of excellent spacing 
and disposition, though also wanting the divine spark 
of genius. The group of St. Joseph, the Virgin, and 
the Divine Child just born, is especially attractive. 

But when we turned to the altar-wall, true genius 
struck us with its power, never better emphasized than 
by these surroundings : it was a Titian, sadly injured, 
but glowing still in all its harmonies of line and color, 
— the meeting of Saints Joachim and Anna at the 
Golden Gate. What a contrast to the others were 
these forms of solidity and actuality, with their pro- 
found expression of true love relieved from fears. 
Beside them, on the altar, was a contrast still greater 
as to beauty, — a little canvas of the Madonna and 
Child by Palma Vecchio, of his exquisite pureness of 
line and richness of shade. It was the same lovely, 
noble countenance that looks forth from his Santa 
Barbara at Venice, and is possessed by so many of his 
illustrious women. 

The remainder of our stay in Padua was devoted to 
the objects of minor interest, concerning which I shall 
be brief. Two of them are found in the central section: 
the Scuola S, Rocco, abutting on the little Piazza of 
S. Lucia, and the Church of S. Pietro, a little west 
of the University Library. The latter contains pictures 
by Varotari and Palma Giovane, and a colored terra- 
cotta relief by Bellano; the main hall of the former is 
pleasantly frescoed by Titian's disciples, — Gualtiero, 



96 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Dom. Campagnola, and Stefano dall' Arziere. In the 
southern section, S. Michele, just beyond Ezzelino's 
castle, contains some interesting, early, anonymous 
frescoes; and in S. Maria in Vanzo, close at hand on 
the east, may be seen some of Dom. Campagnola's 
best work, besides a good Entombment by Jacopo 
Bassano, and a splendid, though injured. Madonna 
with Saints by Bart. Montagna of Vicenza. In the 
eastern section, a good walk takes one first to S. 
Francesco, a short way beyond Dante's house; where 
he finds a delightful series of frescoes by Titian's pupil, 
Girolamo del Santo, a high-altar piece by Paolo Vero- 
onese (representing the Ascension) , examples of Palma 
Giovane and Dom. Campagnola, and the fragments 
of the splendid bronze tomb of Pietro Roccabonella, 
which was begun by Bellano and finished by Riccio. 
Continuing from this eastward, past the great building 
of the Ospitale Civile, one reaches the little Church of 
S. Massimo, in the street of the same name, with its 
three fine specimens of the art of G. B. Tiepolo; and 
some distance ^beyond that, at the eastern limits of the 
city, he arrives at the imposing Renaissance gate of 
the Porta Portello, which was designed in 1518 by 
Guglielmo Gigli of Bergamo, in the form of a Roman 
triumphal arch, very richly decorated, — an inter- 
mediate between the styles of the Lombardi and Pal- 
ladio. Two other city gates, both constructed by 
Falconetto, are worthy of inspection by him who 
makes a long stay, — the Porta S. Giovanni and the 
Porta Savonarola; they are excellent examples of 
the most classical period of the Revival. 



CHAPTER IV 

VICENZA THE PALATIAL 

Beneath is spread like a green sea 
The waveless plain of Lombardy, 
Bounded by the vaporous air. 
Islanded by cities fair. 

The old words of Shelley repeated themselves softly 
in my mind as I looked from the window of the express 
which was rushing northwestward to Vicenza. So 
perfectly flat was the ground that even this slight 
elevation commanded quite a view, — always the 
same: innumerable fields of wheat and Indian corn, 
occasional orchards, with garlands of vines swinging 
from tree to tree in Umbrian fashion, then corn again, 
always corn, lifting its tall stalks in countless parallel 
rows that waved gently in the early morning breeze. 
Between the fields ran lines of trees as fences, often 
also across the fields in rows, a rod or so apart, — 
elm, ash, beech, horse-chestnut, and especially the deli- 
cate mulberry, for the silk- worm cultivation; while 
willows in general shaded the banks of the many ir- 
rigating-ditches, and tall poplars marked the frequent 
roads, breaking the cold winds that sweep the plain 
in winter and early spring. 

Richness was the distinguishing characteristic of 
this wonderful alluvial country, and denseness of pop- 
ulation, — the two concomitant qualities that have 
made the nations fight for it since time immemorial. 
The ploughed or upturned earth was always black 
and loamy, looking of primeval wealth; the crops had 



98 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

a growth, the vegetation a luxuriance, such as one 
seldom sees anywhere else, — the only discordant 
element being the stunted majority of the trees, stout 
knobby trunks crowned with sprouts of this year's 
shooting, that showed the practice prevalent here as 
elsewhere in Italy of stripping off the boughs for fuel. 
The peasants in fact have nothing else to burn. But 
the obtruding feature of the landscape was the con- 
stant presence of habitations; everywhere over the 
meadows rose the white walls of houses, shining from 
surrounding foliage, sometimes single but as often in 
village groups ; — always the presence of man, be- 
trayed if in no other way by the never-absent cam- 
panili of his churches. When I think of Lombardy, 
that image rises in my mind, — of slender towers 
soaring far above a great sea of vegetation, capped 
with spires or pointed cupolas, upon belfries of round 
arches and white stone shafts; near at hand, in the 
middle distance, far-away and haze-shrouded, each 
marks an invisible town, with scores or hundreds of 
teeming, crowded old dwellings, dominated by their 
parish churches with swelling Byzantine domes, that 
often are seen afar beside the campanili ; and if one 
stops to listen, in the leaf -rustling silence there steals 
upon the ear the music of their bells, at early morn, 
at sun-stilled noon, at balmy, roseate eventide, surg- 
ing from every direction over the tree-tops, blending 
into a chime whose mellow tones seem laden with all 
the sorrows of the tragic past. 

Often the train ran through, or by, these little 
plain-towns, affording quick glimpses of dirty, cobble- 
paved streets, shadowed by tall, crumbling, dirty 
buildings, with old stucco walls stained or crudely 
colored, dark archways, littered courtyards, sunlit 
piazzas occupied by ancient well-covers and women 



.^ 




VICEXZA. PALAZZO D 




A RAGIONE. (PALLADIO.) 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 99 

filling jars, dilapidated rococo church fagades, narrow 
ways blocked by clumsy wagons harnessed to sleepy 
oxen, and everywhere children, rolling in the dirt, 
playing, crying, running beside the track. When 
passed at a little distance they were more pleasing 
to the eye, — the solidly massed white walls seen 
through intervening verdure, with their uniform red- 
tiled roofs, little surrounding gardens, and picturesque 
towers soaring against the blue. All these small un- 
walled towns are as much a development of the three 
last centuries as are the solitary farmhouses that now 
dot the landscape, — an evolution of more peaceful 
days. Often we passed close to one of the latter, but 
its wall-inclosed front yard littered with straw and 
manure-piles, its filthy stables and pig-pens under the 
same roof (sometimes under the very floor) of the 
living-rooms, its whole appearance and air of decay 
and neglect, showed little advancement over the ignor- 
ance of the Middle Ages. Of course there were excep- 
tions, — dwellings clean and well-kept; and now and 
then my eyes were also gladdened by the sight of a 
charming villa, set amidst lawns and shady grounds. 
The roads were very frequent, invariably of splendid 
form and firmness, and their travelers were invariably 
the slow-moving teams of white or creamy oxen. The 
streams were fully as frequent, of a number and size 
always astonishing to the traveler upon his first visit 
to Lombardy, bearing swiftly to the sea the endless 
melted snows of the Alps, and often adorned with old 
mills and huge revolving wheels. About the only re- 
minders or relics of the distant past were the occa- 
sional, battlemented, dark walls and towers of a castle 
of the dark ages, looming over the tree-tops as grimly 
as in days of lance and foray, though often now but 
a ruined and empty shell. 



100 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Such were the regular features of the plain; but 
to-day, as the express rushed on without a stop, my 
gaze roamed on beyond them to the south, to an 
appearance not always present, that crowned the 
landscape with its majesty. This was the lofty out- 
line of the Euganean Hills, upon which the poet 
penned those lines about the plain. There they 
swelled in the blue, hazy distance, in all their beauty of 
curving lines and smiling, village-dotted flanks, add- 
ing to the scene that touch of grandeur withr ut which 
its flatness might become monotonous. It is a curious 
position that they occupy, so far isolated from the 
mother Alps; but they are not alone in this. For, as 
we left them gradually to rear, washed upon the west 
by a sea of verdure that stretched to the horizon, from 
this same sea ahead I saw another hill-chain rising, 
the brother of the Euganean in general shape and out- 
line. It was the Monti Berici, the first outwork of the 
Alps thrown southward upon the plain, as the Colli 
Euganei are the second. So much nearer to the moun- 
tains are the Berici that a narrow valley only inter- 
venes on their northwest; and it is exactly at the east- 
ern end of this defile that is located the city of Vicenza. 
From the rich slopes of the wooded hills, dotted white 
with a thousand villas, my thoughts turned to the 
ancient town which we were so rapidly approaching, 
looking backward from its strategical situation in 
command of this important pass, to the part in history 
that it has played. 

Vicenza, it is true, has never been large enough to 
act a leading part, and has been aflSliated in turn with 
the fortunes of her stronger neighbors, Padua, Verona, 
Milan, and Venice; but she was important enough to 
be one of the first prizes for which those powers hun- 
gered and fought, and has consequently endured more 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 101 

vicissitudes than if she had been independent. When 
she had struggled from early medieval darkness into 
a self-sustaining municipality, which fought bravely 
as a member of the two Lombard Leagues against 
the two Imperial Fredericks, — like Padua and all the 
cities of this region, she fell into the diabolical 
clutches of Ezzelino, and encountered the greatest 
disaster of her history in being assaulted by the Im- 
perial troops in 1236, and almost utterly destroyed by 
sack anr\ fire. When she re-arose with courage from 
her ashes, there immediately ensued one of the strang- 
est occurrences of all times, — the career of Era Gio- 
vanni of Vicenza. 

This extraordinary man was a Dominican monk, 
who "undertook the noble task of pacifying Lom- 
bardy. Every town in the north of Italy was at that 
time torn by the factions of the Guelphs and Ghibel- 
lines; private feuds crossed and intermingled with 
political discords; and the savage tyranny of Ezzelino 
had shaken the fabric of society to its foundations. 
It seemed utterly impossible to bring this people for 
a moment to agreement. Yet what popes and princes 
had failed to achieve, the voice of a single friar accom- 
plished."^ Era Giovanni commenced his wonderful 
preaching at Bologna in 1233, where his eloquent de- 
pictions of the horrors of warfare, and the beauties 
of reconciliation and forgiveness, so moved every 
class of the populace that enmities were laid aside 
and order installed. Then he moved to Padua, where 
he was received with great enthusiasm, and soon 
accomplished similar results. "Treviso, Eeltre, Bel- 
luno, Conegliano, and Romano, the very nests of the 
grim brood of Ezzelino, yielded to the charm. Verona, 
where the Scalas were about to reign, Vicenza, Man- 

^ Symonds, Age of the Despots, Appendix iv. 



102 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

tua, and Brescia, all placed themselves at the disposi- 
tion of the monk, and prayed him to reform their 
constitution."^ 

Finally Fra Giovanni played his great stroke, and 
"bade the burghers of all the towns where he had 
preached to meet him on the plain of Pasquara, in the 
country of Verona. . . . More than four hundred thou- 
sand persons . . . appeared on the scene. This multi- 
tude included the populations of Verona, Mantua, 
Brescia, Padua, and Vicenza, marshaled under their 
several standards," besides contingents from many 
other places, and a large aggregation of princes and 
ruling nobles. So forcibly did the friar address them, 
with such powers of hypnotic influence, that he in- 
duced all present to swear to a friendly confedera- 
tion, — another league of the Lombard cities, which 
should establish peace upon a firm foundation. What 
stranger incident in history than this ! Sad it is, then, 
to see with what human frailty Fra Giovanni undid 
his glorious work. Giddy with success, he made the 
people of ViceYiza and Verona appoint him their sov- 
ereign lord, with "the titles of Duke and Count. The 
people, believing him to be a saint, readily acceded 
to his wishes." But once in possession of absolute 
power, the friar's whole nature seemed to undergo a 
change; the frenzy of persecuting fancied heretics 
seized him, and his blood-guiltiness became like that 
of Ezzelino. At last, when he had burned at the stake 
sixty prominent Veronese in a body, the populace rose 
against him in arms, beat down his guards, and in- 
carcerated him in a dungeon. He came forth from it, 
eventually, to find himself without a follower in the 
land, and sank into an obscure grave. 

Ezzelino kept his heavy hand upon Vicenza until 

^ Symonds, Age of the Despots, Appendix iv. 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 103 

his death in 1259; but even then she could not secure 
freedom, for the ambitious leaders of Padua proceeded 
to subjugate her, and asserted their rule until 1311, 
when she became the object of the cupidity of the 
Delia Scala, newly risen despots of Verona. War for 
Vicenza's possession then ensued, in which the Pad- 
uans were led by that brilliant soldier Jacopo da 
Carrara, whom seven years later they elected to be 
their lord; but the celebrated Can Grande, greatest 
of the Delia Scala, was at the head of the Veronese 
forces, and dictated Vicenza's cession in 1319 at the 
gates of Padua herself. So was the example of Ezze- 
lino followed, here and all over North Italy, and his 
death succeeded by the upgrowth of a swarm of 
tyrants, to whom the fierce local struggles between 
Guelfs and Ghibellines gave their opportunity. As 
time went on, the lesser potentates sank one by one 
under the assaults of the more powerful, and their 
territories were absorbed in the larger states. Thus 
the Scaligers, after erecting under Can Grande a king- 
dom of huge proportions, fell victims in rapid decay to 
the power of the Milanese Visconti, who seized Vicenza 
in 1387. She became a part of the wide territories 
accumulated by that greatest and vilest of medieval 
despots, Gian Galeazzo Visconti, the Viper, whose 
unexpected death in 1404 alone probably saved all 
Italy from union under his yoke. His vast posses- 
sions, from the Alps to the states of Rome, gathered 
by such an infinitude of baseness and treachery, 
crumbled to pieces at a stroke, — divided, not only 
between his sons, but amongst the neighboring de- 
spoiled and covetous powers. Vicenza was claimed 
and marched upon by the Carrara, which proved to be 
the latters' undoing; for while their army stood before 
the Vicentine walls, Gian Galeazzo's widow called the 



104 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Venetian Republic to her aid. It was a fatal call. Up 
to this time Venice had chiefly confined her mighty 
energies to the sea; now she turned them definitely 
upon the mainland; with irresistible power she swept 
the Carrara out of Padua, and not only seized that 
city for her own, but also Vicenza, Bassano, and 
Verona, as "the price for her support of the Visconti," 
— who had no option but to submit. These cities, and 
their outlying territories, were the second enlargement 
of the Veneto, which had commenced with the Trevi- 
san Marches taken some time before from Padua. 

Vicenza, flattered, embellished, and given a measure 
of self-government by her new conqueror, found now 
that peace and comfort which she had hitherto vainly 
sought, and became flrmly devoted to the Venetian 
sway. She vigorously supported the Mistress of the 
Sea in her succeeding wars of the quattrocento, endur- 
ing on one occasion, for her sake, a siege that reduced 
the inhabitants to eating rats and grass, and almost 
decimated them, until, after months of heroic suffer- 
ing, the enemy were dislodged by a succoring Vene- 
tian army. Venice always stood by her subject cities; 
but when the League of Cambrai in 1508 united 
against her all the great powers of Europe, seeing 
resistance vain, she politically offered to Vicenza and 
the other towns complete freedom of action, that 
they might surrender without destruction. Vicenza 
accordingly yielded to the Imperialists; but soon 
after, ashamed of such conduct, re-tendered her al- 
legiance to the Republic. This manly though imprud- 
ent course brought upon the city its second great 
disaster; for the Prince of Anhalt proceeded to march 
upon her, in 1510, dispersed the insufficient Venetian 
forces of Commandant Baglioni, and seized the place 
with fury and rapine. *'The people of Vicenza also 




VICEXZA. MADOXXA AND SAINTS, IX THE CHURCH OF SAX 
STEFAXO. (PALMA VECCHIO.I 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 105 

fled before the invaders; but about six thousand, who 
had thought to conceal themselves in a disused quarry- 
near the town, were tracked to their hiding-place, and 
all of them suffocated by the orders of a French cap- 
tain of adventure, named d'Herisson." ^ 

Even this terrible event did not destroy the people's 
Venetian patriotism, and at the dissolution of the 
League of Cambrai, along with all their sister towns, 
they returned voluntarily and gladly to their old 
allegiance ; — wonderful testimony to the beneficence 
of the Republic's rule. At the final extinction of the 
Republic by Bonaparte, Vicenza shared the fate and 
vicissitudes of her neighbors, which ended in the 
hateful Austrian domination. In the glorious Risorgi- 
mento she furnished more than her share of the heroes, 
and again played a noble and courageous part, espe- 
cially in the war of 1848-49. 

The Austrian general Nugent was marching west- 
ward his corps in May, 1848, to unite with Marshal 
Radetsky's army, shut up in the Quadrilateral; but 
when he came to Vicenza, the little city, guarded only 
by a few thousand volunteers and Swiss Papal troops, 
to the Marshal's astonishment put up a formidable 
defense. Across the valley, across the flanks of the 
enfolding hills, everywhere the heavy Austrian at- 
tacks were intrepidly rolled back for hour after hour, 
the women assisting at the barricades, the showers of 
shells falling in the streets being greeted only by 
shouts of "Viva l' Italia!" So roughly were the Aus- 
trians handled that they gave it up, and started across 
the Berici Range in the night, toward Verona. Yet 
a few days later Radetsky tried to take his revenge, 
by sending back 24,000 men and 54 guns to punish 
the insolent town. 

^ Brown, Venice: An Historical Sketch of the Republic. 



106 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

The Vicentines were now reinforced from Venice, 
and from Padua by the troops of General Dorando, 
who took command; and all night long on the 23d of 
May, while the lightning vied in flashing with the 
guns, the attacks of the enemy on Monti Berici were 
met and driven back. "Fiery missiles fell into the 
town, the cannon roaced on the walls and from the 
barricades; at last, on the next morning, after pro- 
digious feats of valor, in which the Swiss troops took 
their full share, the enemy retired, after having 
thrown the dead and wounded into the flames. . . . 
Thus Vicenza for the second time had to congratulate 
itself on its escape." ^ Sad it is, then, to know, after 
such heroism, that Radetsky himself returned on the 
8th of June, mounted the hills to the south, and, ad- 
vancing on their crests, succeeded in commanding the 
city with his guns, and so forcing its surrender. "Thus 
fell Vicenza; its defense is the more remarkable as the 
city was without regular fortifications, and held out 
simply from the courage of its brave defenders." ^ 

Vicenza also attained an honored place in the art 
of the Renaissance, developing her own distinctive 
schools of painting and architecture. But in the 
former her importance was due to three men only: 
not Mantegna, in spite of his being born here, for he 
labored elsewhere, — but the late quattrocentist Gio- 
vanni Speranza, and the early cinquecentists Bar- 
tolommeo Montagna and Giovanni Buonconsiglio, — 
the great part of whose works are still confined to their 
native town, beautifying its churches and palaces. 
Buonconsiglio's tendencies were clearly Venetian, in 

^ Emilio Dandolo, The Italian Volunteers, or L»mbard Rifle Brigade. 

^ Ibid. — It was here that Massimo d' Azelio, while taking his part 
bravely in the defense, received the musket-ball in his leg. As he wrote to 
his daughter from Ferrara on June 17, — "Dopo aver fatto tutti gli forzi 
possibili, si e capitolato, avendo avuto onorevoli condizioni." 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 107 

coloring and composition, and he attained consider- 
able beauty in his pietistic pictures; but Montagna*s 
was a stronger and more individual spirit, develop- 
ing marked characteristics, with peculiar, powerful 
figures, striking expressiveness, and much study of 
realism, — with at the same time much repose, and 
exceeding loveliness in tone and line. So distinctive 
are his works, in their breadth of conception gained 
by his years of travel, that for the art-lover they alone 
are worth a journey to Vicenza. Giovanni Bellini, 
Cima da Conegliano, and particularly Palma Vecchio, 
turned aside from their Venetian works to paint some 
splendid canvases for the churches of Vicenza, that 
are also well worth the visit in themselves. 

But it is in the department of architecture that 
Vicenza shone preeminent; for she produced Tommaso 
Fromentone, Vincenzo Scamozzi, Calderari, and, chief 
of all, the great Andrea Palladio.^ The latter was 
born and educated here, and spent his best years in 
adorning the city that he loved, until the imprint of 
his genius shone from her every street, and she be- 
came the palatial Vicenza that we see to-day. Not 
only did Palladio rebuild his own town into a vision 
of beauty, — it was his masterful mind that gave a 
new impulse in the middle cinquecento to the already 
decaying architecture of the Renaissance, reverted it 
to the first principles of strength and harmony of 
lines, without depending on adornment for effect, 
and re-discovered that extensive use of outer columns 
which was more true to the Roman styles, and has 
been to the modern world the chief legacy of the 
classic. In a word, it is to Palladio that we owe the 
final, predominant form of Renaissance architecture. 

^ Vicenza is further distinguished as the home of Italy's greatest recent 
novelist, Fogazzaro, who died there but a few months ago. 



108 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

But every Englishman, and every American, owes 
him a special debt: it was from Palladio's style, set 
forth in his palaces and churches at Venice and Vi- 
cenza, that Inigo Jones and the English artists, at- 
tracted at last from their long resistance, drew the 
forms of the English Renaissance, — which, lightened 
and slightly modified in America by the use of wooden 
materials, became her one native style, the Colonial. 

The revolution which Palladio accomplished, he 
did by discarding all that had immediately preceded 
him, and going straight back to the study and applica- 
tion of antique forms and lines, as seen in the build- 
ings still remaining from Roman times. Symonds 
says of him: "The greatest builder of this period was 
Andrea Palladio of Vicenza, who combined a more 
complete, analytical knowledge of antiquity with a 
firmer adherence to rule and precedent, than even 
the most imitative of his forerunners. . . . One great 
public building of Palladio — the Palazzo della 
Ragione at Vicenza — may be cited as perhaps the 
culminating point of pure Renaissance architecture."^ 
And Goethe: "I say of Palladio, he was a man really 
and intrinsically great, whose greatness was out- 
wardly manifested. . . . What an imposing effect 
have his edifices. . . . There is indeed something 
divine about his designs, which may be exactly com- 
pared to the creations of the great poet, who out of 
truth and falsehood elaborates something between 
them both, and charms us with its borrowed exist- 
ence. ^ 

The building mentioned by Symonds — the old 
Broletto, or town-hall, of Vicenza — was externally 
rebuilt by Palladio in a form at once so magnificent 
and so joyously beautiful that it is not only his mas- 

^ Symonds, Fine Arts. * Goethe, Autobiography ; Letters from Italy. 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 109 

terpiece, and the culminating point of Renaissance 
architecture^ but one of the very few greatest Italian 
structures of all time and all places. I knew this before 
going there. I had learnt that one had no right to 
think he knew Italy, who had not observed and 
studied this chef d'ceuvre of her artistic perihelion. It 
therefore was the loadstone that drew me to Vicenza, 
with an impatience momentarily greater as my train 
approached the foot of the Monti Berici. 

We crossed a small stream; it was the Bacchiglione, 

— still the Bacchiglione, — which waters Vicenza long 
before it reaches Padua. The Vicentines, when at 
their frequent wars with the Paduans, as hereinbefore 
stated, used to dam it up south of their city; which 
converted the land east of Monti Berici into a swamp, 
but deprived Padua of drinking-water and power. 
Dante speaks of this, — 

Ma tosto fia che Padova al palude 
Cangera I'aqua che Vicenza bagna 
Per esser al dover le genti crudi. 

Immediately after, we crossed another small stream, 

— likewise flowing southward, — the Retrone, which 
here unites with the Bacchiglione, after the former 
has circled the city upon the south and the latter upon 
the north. Then we stopped in a covered station, 
surprisingly large for a place of 45,000; from which I 
emerged to find the town itself well to the north, and 
a wide stretch of grassy level fields intervening, cov- 
ered near the walls with a handsome grove of giant 
plane trees, I gave my bag to a facchino and started 
on foot over the avenue across the fields, which 
proved to lead straight north to the city's southwest- 
ern gate ; but before I reached the gate I had a charm- 
ing sight, — a promenade diverging southeasterly 



110 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

from the avenue, through the plane wood, with 
arboreal monarchs on each side arching its far, shady 
vista. Here, as I subsequently learned, repair the 
youth and fashion of Vicenza on summer evenings, to 
stroll amid the scents of greenery with the lamps of 
fireflies lighting the shadows. 

The Porta Castello opened before me, an old arch- 
way between medieval buildings, dominated by the 
tall picturesque tower which the Scaligers built during 
their possession, to keep watch and ward over the 
city and country. Through the gate I entered a little 
piazza of the same name, extending transversely, and 
saw Vicenza's main thoroughfare, the Corso Principe 
Umberto, leading straight before me to the northeast 
for a long way, — narrow but dignified, shadowed by 
impressive Palladian palaces. It in fact crosses the 
city, to the bridge on the northeast over the Bacchi- 
glione. But what immediately caught my eye with 
interest was a tall, two-storied, unfinished structure 
at the south end of the piazza, only two windows in 
width, but of exceeding grace and power combined; 
it was the celebrated Palazzo del Conte Porto al Cas- 
tello, once called by the people the Ca' del Diavolo, 
and which, so many authorities allege, would if finished 
have been Palladio's most handsome private palace. 
It was not completed, as Zanella puts it, because 
"I'animodeinostrinobili era maggiore delle rendite,"^ 

By this noble fragment the visitor is introduced at 
his first step to Palladio's principal method of con- 
struction, — the running of pilasters or half-columns 
the height of the upper stories, surmounted by a heavy 
frieze and cornice. Here they are Corinthian half- 
columns, standing upon very massive pedestals which 
occupy the whole of the spaces between the simple 

* Giacomo Zanella, Vita di Andrea Palladio. 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 111 

basement windows; while tlie single upper story is 
loftier than two of usual size, and its windows between 
the columns are adorned with pediments and heavy 
balconies. There is no other ornamentation, except 
the relieved garlands of the frieze; yet it is handsomer 
than any mass of decoration could be. 

On the left side of the piazza stands a statue of Gari- 
baldi (they all look about alike, these statues of the 
Liberator), and next it on the northeast, at the be- 
ginning of the Corso, a palace of Vincenzo Scamozzi's, 
— the Palazzo Bonin. It is a good example of his 
powers: an open Doric colonnade on the first story, 
without arches, Ionic half-columns on the second story, 
separating windows like those of the Ca' del Diavolo, 
and surmounted by a continuous heavy cornice, — and 
a short third story, of Corinthian pilasters between 
simple squared windows. Like Palladio, Scamozzi 
used columns, and heavily pedimented windows, for 
most of his effects of grace or power. ^ — But next 
to this building, on the left, was my destination, the 
principal inn existing to-day in Vicenza, located in 
an old palace behind an attractive, well-flowered gar- 
den. The former "Hotel de la Ville," once so praised 
by travelers, has disappeared; but I found this Al- 
bergo Roma excellent for a small place. Its stately 
old rooms and halls made me feel like a visitor to 
some noble house; which impression was enhanced 
when we sat down to dine that evening in the open, 
scented air of the garden, with screening bushes shut- 
ting out the everyday world. 

In the afternoon, however, when the sun had sunk 
a little toward the western hills, I started out for my 

' How well he succeeded will be remembered by all travelers, when they 
call to mind his magnificent Procuratie Nuove, on the south side of the 
Piazza of St. Mark. 



112 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

tour of first impressions ; and never have I had a more 
delightful walk, more full of enjoyable surprises and 
fresh bursts of beauty or picturesqueness. "In a word, 
this sweet Towne has more well-built Palaces than 
any of its dimensions in all Italy, besides a number 
begun and not yet finished (but of stately design)." ^ 
These "contribute in the whole to give Vicenza an 
appearance of splendour and beauty not common 
even in Italy." ^ I had no sooner stepped from the 
garden into the street than the first of the long series 
confronted me upon the opposite side, — the Palazzo 
Loschi, built in the eighteenth century, nevertheless 
of Palladian style. The heavy half -columns along the 
upper stories, the stern basement, and rich entabla- 
ture, lent an air of grandeur and impressiveness to 
the narrow way; and here was prominent a later char- 
acteristic of this style, the row of projecting human 
heads, carved from stone, with fearful grimaces and 
distortions, ornamenting the keystones of the win- 
dow arches. These were positively so grotesque and 
varied that I 'stood spellbound for a moment under 
their evil glances, as if they carried hypnotic influ- 
ence. Strange indeed are the eccentric channels into 
which decadent art will run.^ 

Away before me to the northeast stretched the 
Corso, resplendent with other palaces at intervals as 
far as the eye could reach, — an endless array of shops 
and inviting caffes in the ground floors, the narrow 
sidewalks and pavement thronged with a crowd fresh 
from their midday siesta. As I strolled along I found 

^ Evelyn, Diary and Letters. 

^ Eustace, Classical Tour through Italy. 

' In this palace was preserved till recently one of Italy's most valuable 
artistic relics, — which America can now pride herself upon possessing, 
for it hangs in Mrs. . Gardner's gallery at Boston. This is Giorgione's 
famous Christ bearing the Cross. 




viceinZA. garde: 







F PALAZZO QUIRINL 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 113 

that by no means were all the fine buildings in Palla- 
dio's manner; there were Gothic palaces, with charm- 
ing pointed windows, and many of the Earlier Renais- 
sance forms, of the quattrocento and first half of the 
cinquecento. Most pleasant of all, I found that the 
entrance-hallways, including those in simple unadorned 
fagades, almost invariably opened directly into gar- 
dened courts; so that the eye was gladdened by a 
succession of engaging vistas, through hallways and 
ornamental wickets, of green masses of shrubbery 
and gorgeous flower-beds. This is a characteristic of 
Vicenza that never fails to impress the most careless 
traveler, and ever after calls up, with the mention of 
her name, visions of groves and blossoms framed by 
old cortili.^ 

Beyond the second street on the left (still narrower, 
and darker, were these little side ways) loomed up the 
large and picturesque Palazzo Thiene, and beyond the 
third street the double Palazzo Braschi, — all three 
splendid Gothic edifices of the quattrocento, built of 
brick once plastered but now more or less bare again, 
with balconies and pointed windows of stone or 
marble framework, exquisite in design and delicate 
enrichment. 

Most of these Gothic arches were trefoil, with plain 
heavy cusps, foliage capitals, spiral mouldings at the 
angles of the jambs, and dainty balustrades or bal- 
conies; many were also slightly ogive, with delicate 
labels, capped by ornamental balls or vases. Still 
farther on, rose on the opposite or south side the con- 

^ Some of the noble mansions, nearer the outskirts of the city, are 
backed by gardens of wide extent and noted loveliness, which are well 
worth seeing when admission can be procured. Particularly pleasing are 
those of the Marchese Salvi, and of the Palazzo Quirini, with their ordered 
profusion of groves, walks, lawns, and shrubberies, embellished everywhere 
by marble sculptures and fountains. 



114 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

trasting Palazzo Porto, with one of Scamozzi*s monu- 
mental f agades, as powerful and grandiose in its ponder- 
ous columns as tiie Gothic structures were light and 
fanciful; and through its wide central hall was visible 
a beautiful courtyard, ennobled by fine Doric col- 
umns and entablature. Then, beyond the Via Zanella 
leading to the left, I came on that side to the fairest 
Gothic building of them all, the famous Palazzo da 
Schio, looking as if the pride of the Grand Canal of 
Venice had been bodily transported to soar magni- 
ficently above this narrow way. From its second and 
third stories, besides many single lovely windows, 
shone two delightful colonnades of four ogive arches, 
cusped and labeled, with slender marble shafts crowned 
by exuberant capitals, and connected at their bases by 
balustrades; on each side of them opened single 
windows of similar style, adorned with balconies pro- 
jecting widely on elaborately carved consoles, — at 
whose upper corners sat the quaintest imaginable 
little marble figures of putti and lions, holding armorial 
shields. 

Close beyond this again on the left, I passed the dwell- 
ing of Palladio, having a simple early f agade with broad 
spaces intended to be frescoed, and once so adorned, 
as the lingering fragments gave evidence. Finally the 
Corso debouched into the northern end of a spacious 
piazza, named after Vittorio Emanuele II; and front- 
ing it on the corner to the right, I saw the grand pal- 
ace built by Palladio in 1566 for the noble family of 
Chieregati, now devoted to the municipal collections 
of art, antiquities, and natural history. It is cer- 
tainly one of his most imposing creations: on the 
ground floor is an extensive Doric colonnade, without 
arches, with simple Doric frieze; and the Ionic colon- 
nade above this is broken in the centre by a project- 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 115 

ing pavilion q,dorned with half -columns, over the pedi- 
ments of whose windows recline sculptured figures 
nearly life-size; the whole effect being monumental 
rather than graceful, — which is increased by the row 
of statues upon the eaves. At the northeast angle of 
the piazza I saw another of Palladio's buildings, the 
celebrated Teatro Olympico which he constructed on 
ancient lines ; naught was visible on the outside, how- 
ever, but a mass of irregular, unfaced structures sur- 
rounding a wide, cluttered entrance-court; and a sign 
informed me that the ingress now was upon the back 
street.^ 

Putting off this visit until later, I returned along 
the Corso as I had come, passing through the arcades 
which line its central part, and not turning until I had 
almost reached the hotel. There I veered to the south 
by the short Via Loschi, beside the palace of that 
name, and came quickly to a little piazza overshad- 
owed on the east by a huge church, whose fagade was 
remarkably like that of S. Antonio at Padua. It was 
the Duomo. Its front is crossed by the same five, 
large, recessed Gothic arches, the central one contain- 
ing a simple squared doorway and the next two hold- 
ing lancet windows, — while in the centre of the flat 
gable opens a broad rose-window. It is not very hand- 
some. I advanced into the widening of the piazza on 
the south side of the church, where stands a recent 

* From that street behind the theatre the Ponte degli Angeli spans the 
Bacchiglione, connecting with the eastern quarter of the city; whose six 
thoroughfares radiate fan-like from the Piazza Venti Settembre at the 
bridge's end. Here, not far distant, may be visited the Church of S. Pietro 
Apostolo, with its statues of Adam and Eve by Albanese, and its beauti- 
ful relief of Charity over the portal, executed in marble by Canova. — 
From the southern end of Piazza Vittorio Emanuele the Viale of the same 
name leads southward, — a shady embankment dividing the two rivers, 
which affords a pleasant promenade; and the walk may be continued to 
the marble arch of Palladio at the foot of Monti Berici. 



116 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

monument to Victor Emanuel, overlooked on the west 
by the long, very attractive fagade of the Episcopal 
Palace. This pleased me exceedingly by its noble 
simplicity : the basement heavily rusticated, with un- 
framed oblong windows, the upper story adorned only 
with Doric half -columns, between balconied windows 
which were framed by Ionic pilasters upholding pedi- 
ments. Yet it was constructed as late as 1819. The 
building itself, however, is fully four centuries old; as 
is proved by the charming court-fagade, or arcade 
(to the right within), which was erected by Fromen- 
tone in 1494. It is a little masterpiece, worthy of the 
fame of him who designed the glorious Municipio of 
Brescia; and by the Vicen tines is often proudly called, 
after its author, the Loggia di Fromentone. 

I entered the Duomo, to find myself in a long, low, 
Gothic-arched nave, with no aisles, but chapels open- 
ing directly from each side; and saw at the end a 
highly elevated choir of Renaissance lines, with a 
dome just before it. Little light came through the 
narrow windows to relieve the dusk, which was al- 
ready somewhat peopled with persons at their after- 
noon devotions. Making the round of the chapels, I 
discovered but three interesting works of art, — a 
canvas of Madonna and Saints by Montagna, fourth 
on the left, a Death of the Virgin by Lorenzo Ve- 
neziano, fifth on the right, and the elaborate monu- 
ment of Bishop Girolamo Schio, executed by Palla- 
dio's disciples, Girolamo Pironi and Maestro Giovanni. 
The Montagna was unfortunately greatly faded, but 
I could see that the colors must once have been rich 
and harmonious; the saintly figures were still grace- 
ful and pleasing, though a little disappointing in their 
want of feeling and expression. 

There was still time enough before dinner to visit 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 117 

Vicenza's great monument, Palladio's capo di lavoro; 
and I turned my steps eastward with a heart beating 
somewhat faster than usual, full at the same time of 
the keenest anticipations, and fear lest I should en- 
counter disappointment. The exterior of the Duomo's 
apse surprised me into a moment's stop, — a splendid 
construction all in red marble, with white basement 
and angle-strips, and large lancet windows; there are 
few, if any, in the plain-towns to surpass it. A narrow 
way, Via Garibaldi, runs from it eastward, parallel 
with Corso Umberto, between very old houses, little 
shops whose contents bulge upon the pavement, and 
stalls for the sale of every sort of produce. Following 
this, and threading my way through the crowd that 
traflBcked and gossiped, in a couple of blocks it ended 
suddenly before a mighty building of dazzling white 
arches that shone gloriously in the blaze of the sinking 
sun. It could be no other than the Basilica Palladiana. 
Lowering my eyes, I turned to the left, past a statue 
of Palladio, into the wide Piazza dei Signori stretching 
far to the east, — crossed to its northern side, and 
then faced about toward the Basilica. 

Never shall I forget the utter amazement that held 
me motionless, the bewildering sensation of not be- 
lieving my eyes, and the final rush of overwhelming 
feelings, — as the magnificent glowing spectacle tow- 
ered before me in the golden halo of sunset, like an 
enchantment or a dream of fairyland. The whole vast 
structure was of marble,^ glittering in the level sun- 
rays like some unreal edifice from hands that were 
more than mortal, — like the wondrous palace that 
sprang from earth at the touch of Aladdin's lamp, or 

^ Marble, at least, to all intents and appearances; though as a fact it is 
a calcareous carbonate of extraordinary hardness, called, after the place of 
its quarrying, the pietradi Piovene. 



118 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

that which the gods raised for Cadmus while he slept. 
The long rows of superb arches, one above the other, 
resting fairylike on beautiful columns free of walls, 
seemed to mount into the air without sustenance or 
weight, bearing against the blue the forms of heroes 
turned to stone by the Medusa's head. It was a lace- 
work of marble held aloft by unseen power, through 
whose pattern ran curves of ethereal grace, inter- 
threaded with countless pillars of elegance and maj- 
esty. No words could portray this sublime creation 
from the brain of man, no photograph reveal its daz- 
zling beauty in the sunset glow. Yet here it slept 
in this little town, like the palace of the Sleeping 
Beauty, unknown and unnoticed by the hordes of 
travelers who pass within a mile of it on the speeding 
cars, year after year. 

It was hard to realize that within that marble 
splendor stood an aged, brick, Gothic edifice of medi- 
eval times; yet so it was, and a closer inspection could 
just discern in the shadows of the deep arcades some 
of the pointed arches of the original Broletto. The 
latter was not a handsome building, and it was by 
order of the Signoria that Palladio in 1549 began the 
construction of this classic covering, — therefore one 
of his earliest works, although not completed until 
nearly seventy years later. ^ The lower of the two 

^ The work of erection was supervised by Palladio himself for thirty 
years, up to his death in 1580; but it was not fully completed until 1614. 
He was aided, from time to time, by many of his pupils and followers. 
Praise, for instance, is especially due to the very talented Girolamo Pironi 
(author of the exquisite pilaster fronting the Cappella del Santo at Padua) 
for the many sculptures which embellish the free spaces of the lower 
arcade. Palladio's, however, was the guiding mind; and to him was given 
all praise by the commission to examine the artistic and historical monu- 
ments of Venetia, which was appointed by the Archduke Ferdinand Maxi- 
milian, Governor-General, in 1859. "This building" — they reported — 
"is without doubt the cajjolavoro of Palladio, and that in which he best 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 119 

arcades is of course Doric, and the upper Ionic; the 
arches in each case spring from coupled, detached 
columns, one behind the other, and are separated by 
piers adorned with long half-columns reaching from 
base to cornice. There is no other ornamentation, 
beyond the balustrades of the second story and the 
roof, and the statues surmounting the latter; the 
beauty of this wonderful edifice comes purely from 
its harmony of parts and lines, — the greatest exem- 
plar that I know of the truth that true loveliness lies 
not in adornment. Over the arcades soars from 
within a tall third story of contrasting heavy wall- 
spaces, topped by a huge, curving, tinned roof like 
that of the Salone at Padua; and these, I realized 
now, were of the primal building. 

My eyes wandered from the lofty arch of the roof 
to the still loftier tower that dominates the whole 
construction at its northeast angle, soaring into the 
clouds like the Mangia of Siena; square in shape, of 
unstuccoed brick, endowed with a slim elegance and 
lightness, it projects almost its whole width into the 
piazza at the eastern end of the fagade, and, far aloft, 
above a graceful belfry with double arches of white 
marble on each side, alters to an octagonal cylinder of 
three divisions, capped by a Byzantine-looking dome 
and columned lantern. This last is two hundred and 
sixty-five feet above the pavement. I walked to its 
foot, and observed there a large marble tablet in a 
classic frame of pilasters and entablature, bearing 
many names in rows: they were the Vicentines who 
had given their lives for their country in the Risorgi- 
mento; — and to my mind, as I looked, returned the 

demonstrated his knowledge of the application of the rules of ancient 
Roman architecture. The design is noble, simple, grandiose, harmonious." 
See Monumenti Artistici e Storici delle Provincie Venete. 



120 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

picture of that terrible struggle of 1848 upon Monte 
Berici, wlien its slopes ran red with their valiant blood. 
Some twenty feet above this was a handsome Renais- 
sance archway relieved in marble, containing the 
sculptured figures of the Madonna, Child, and two 
Saints, — an engaging group, graceful and well exe- 
cuted. As far again above this stood the old Venetian 
Lion, of whitest marble and proudest mien, reminding 
me in an instant of what I had for the moment for- 
gotten, — that to the beneficence of the Republic's 
rule were due this great Basilica, and most of the 
splendors of the city. 

Beyond the tower, still fronting on the piazza, 
extends the addition to the Basilica, also built by 
Palladio, which is devoted to the courts, and called 
therefore the Tribunale, — an edifice of entirely dif- 
ferent style, having five stories of heavy stone walls 
pierced by regular and simple windows; while oppo- 
site this, equidistant at the eastern end of the piazza, 
rise the two Venetian columns, nobly proportioned, 
of shining marble, topped by the memorable figures 
of the Lion and the Saint. They looked so new to me 
as to suggest reproduction; but even at that it is ever 
touching, — this undying allegiance to the Mistress 
of the Sea, long after her sun of glory has sunk be- 
neath the horizon. 

I now faced about westward, and found new beau- 
ties irradiated by the sunset glow on the piazza's 
northern flank: chief of these, and very exceptional, 
the long fagade of the Monte di Pieta in the centre, 
glittering like a kaleidoscope from the vivid colors of 
new frescoes laid over all its wall-spaces from top to 
bottom. These were recently finished reproductions 
of the original paintings, that had utterly faded out 
in the rains and sun of several centuries. The build- 




VICENZA. BAPTISM OF CHRIST, IN THE CHURCH OF S. COROXA. 
(GIOVAXNI BELLIXI.) 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 121 

ing itself was plain, but the mass of gorgeous tableaux, 
designs, and crowning frieze made it radiant as a 
tropical flower; and closer inspection of the Biblical 
scenes depicted, revealed a pleasing excellence of com- 
position and action, at once decorative and dramatic. 

To the west of this palace, across a narrow side 
street, the three-storied Palazzo del Capitanio glis- 
tened in its heavy arches and wealth of ornament. 
Cubical in shape, its fagade separated into three di- 
visions by ponderous Corinthian half -columns of brick 
reaching from pavement to cornice, its three arches of 
the ground floor opening into a deep, shadowy loggia, 
— it is a strange building, almost purely a monument, 
erected by Palladio in 1571. The large windows over 
the arcade are adorned with massive balconies, and 
every foot of wall-space is covered with terra-cotta 
worked into figures and designs. This last character- 
istic is still more prominent on the side towards the 
street, which is adorned with half a dozen statues and 
decorated from top to bottom with still more cotta 
reliefs, of every sort, — human figures, masks, mus- 
ical instruments, scrolls, etc. The structure has there- 
fore a special interest, in being almost the only repre- 
sentative in Padua of the Renaissance method of 
terra-cotta decoration, which rose to such noble heights 
in the hands of the artists of Cremona and Milan. It 
evidently arrived here too late. — Of the statues on 
the street side, two, representing Peace and Victory, 
commemorate the Venetian victory of Lepanto over 
the Turks. Above the loggia stretches a single broad 
hall, used for meetings of the Signoria and other city 
bodies, which was adorned with ceiling-paintings by 
Fasolo, now removed to the Pinacoteca. 

Another edifice that now attracted my attention 
rose from the very centre of the painted Monte di 



122 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Pieta, as different from the colored walls on each side as 
day is from night; this was another white marble fa- 
gade, of most exquisite, dainty, Renaissance lines, which 
caught on the rebound and flashed to my eyes, as I 
stood there watching, the last, roseate, sunset gleams 
from the Basilica. It consisted only of two delicate 
arcades, of three arches each, crowned by a baroque 
pediment adorned with a charming relief and five 
statues. Four Corinthian half-columns embellished 
each story, at the sides and between the arches; and 
in all the spandrils of the latter were reclining sculp- 
tured figures, women below and lovely putti above. 
One could hardly realize that this very classic edifice was 
a church, — the Church of S. Vincenzo, — for nothing 
more removed from religious ideals could be imagined; 
yet so it went in those extraordinary cinquecento days, 
when the whole populace was breathing the very air of 
antiquity, when priests and cardinals were connois- 
seurs in Greek mythology, and the very duomos were 
penetrated by goddesses disguised as saints. 

Through tTie middle of the Basilica runs a public 
passage from north to south, occupied, as well as the 
arcades, by the stalls of vendors of provisions; the 
upper floor was designed as the customary great hall, 
for the meetings of the large Communal Council, and 
the ground floor to serve as a covered market, — 
showing how little they then thought of the sights 
and smells which disgust us to-day.^ As I strolled 
through the passage at this evening hour, however, 
the stalls were all closed and boarded and their keep- 
ers gone. On the south side I found myself elevated a 
full story above the ground, which there is open as a 
small piazza in the shadows of tall old houses, and, to 

^ The ball can still be seen, on application to the proper authority, but 
aside from its size has little of interest to repay the trouble. 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 123 

judge by the odor emanating from its deserted booths, 
is used as a fish market. A wide stairway descends from 
the arcade to this Piazza delle Erbe, and at its eastern 
side a bridge leaps from the palace to a picturesque, 
medieval brick tower, grim with heavily barred win- 
dows and battlements, evidently still occupied as a 
prison; the bridge itself is beautified by a lovely, triple. 
Renaissance window, that seems curiously out of 
place in such surroundings. 

Map in hand, I strolled down the piazza and took 
the first turning westward, somewhat beyond, to find 
myself in a very narrow, dark way sloping gently up- 
hill, labeled the Contrada Proti. (It is a peculiarity 
of Vicenza that most of her streets are called Contrada, 
instead of Via.) Quickly here upon the left appeared 
the object of which I was in search, — the very re- 
markable, so-called Casa Pigafetti. Its marble fagade 
rose before me, narrow and three-storied, — one of 
the strangest and most elaborate that I had ever 
encountered: a round-arched doorway, and a little, 
square, strongly barred window on each side of it, 
pierced the basement wall, which was faced to half its 
height with arabesque reliefs, amongst them being the 
motto, "/Z n'y est rose sans espine"; slender spiral col- 
umns with foliage caps stood at the jambs of the door- 
way, other spiral columns at the corners of the build- 
ing, running its whole height, and others again at the 
angles of the three Gothic windows of the second 
story; three balconies upheld the window-ledges of 
the third story, trefoil in shape, the left-hand one upon 
consoles composed of griffins ; and this third story was 
most ornate of all, — its Gothic windows being decor- 
ated at the angles with columns of vases placed one 
upon another, the topmost richly flowering, — its 
panels cut with elaborate designs, and griffins in high- 



124 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

relief bearing escutcheons, — while its cornice, in weird 
contrast, was in curious, broken. Renaissance lines. 
This puzzling medley of unconventional and wanton 
ideas was erected about 1480 for Antonio Pigafetti, 
the sea-captain, but by what designer no one knows. 
I speculated vainly about it as I walked back to the 
hotel in the falling dusk, delighted with my memorable 
ramble, — eager, with that appetite which none but 
a traveler knows, for the dinner spread upon tempt- 
ing white tables, under colored lantern lights, in the 
greenery of the garden. 

Next morning I was out betimes, on my way to 
Vicenza's two churches which are renowned for their 
paintings. Both are in the section north of Corso 
Umberto, toward its eastern end; and I came first to 
S. Stefano, by turning a short way up the Contrada 
Zanella, which it fronts upon the east. The building 
itself is unimportant, its fagade being of an ordinary, 
modern, Renaissance design ; but from its altar in the 
left transept shines one of the most glorious canvases 
of Palma Vecchio, — his celebrated St. George, with 
the Madonna and Santa Lucia. The Madonna sits 
high in the middle, holding the sacred Child erect 
upon her left knee, with a lovely little girl-angel play- 
ing a guitar at her feet and dreamily singing; in the 
rear is an attractive landscape of hills and groves, 
domed by a sky of Italian blueness, with cumulus 
white clouds; but chief of all is the grand figure of 
St. George upon the left, clad cap-a-pie in glistening 
Milanese armor, and holding a staff flying his stand- 
ard. His noble, heroic countenance, with flowing 
hair, his steadfast gaze, his whole attitude and ex- 
pression, radiate manliness and spirituality combined, 
— a superb accomplishment. 

In pleasing contrast to his martial sternness are the 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 125 

sweet gentleness of the Virgin's face, the soft curves 
of St. Lucia's jSgure, the lustrous fairness of the Babe, 
and the deep resplendence of golden tone and richest 
colors. By such surroundings the knightly form is set 
forth and emphasized, with the sunlight glittering 
softly from his burnished corselet, greaves, and 
brassarts; never have I seen elsewhere so powerful, so 
realistic, and yet so ideal a St. George, — not even in 
Carpaccio's of the Schiavoni, nor Mantegna's of the 
Accademia. In nearly every respect that one can 
think of, this is a perfect pietistic painting; if there 
be a noticeable want, it is only in the blankness of the 
Madonna's face, which, with downcast eyes, is rather 
vacant of expression; but who can dwell upon this, 
before the inspired grandeur of the Knight's. 

I looked also for an instant at a poor specimen of 
Tintoretto, representing St. Paul, in the first chapel 
on the left; then went on to the Church of S. Corona, 
which lies a block farther to the east, just off the 
Corso, — a Dominican edifice, built in the last years 
of the thirteenth century, with a Gothic red-brick 
fagade looking not a tenth of that age.^ But its com- 
monplace dusky interior revealed to me treasure after 
treasure : two quaint frescoes by Speranza, — a 
Madonna on the entrance wall, and a group of angels 
beside the second altar to theleit; another quattrocentist 
Madonna and Saints, fourth to the left, by unknown 
hands, accompanied by "a number of Fogolino's 
puffy angels" ^ (1530); an Adoration of the Magi by 
Paolo Veronese, third to the right, having a graceful 
Madonna and Child, and still showing its original gor- 

^ In this church Palladio was originally buried ; but his body was later 
removed to the general cemetery, where it lies under a monument sculp- 
tured by the talented De Fabris. 

'^ Crowe and Cavalcasalle. 



126 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

geous coloring, — but an excellent example of Paolo's 
method of taking richly gowned Venetian patricians, 
posing them in attitudes, and labeling the result a 
scriptural event; a very good Leandro Bassano, repre- 
senting S. Antonio giving alms, third to the left, with 
his usual, dark, luminous atmosphere, and fine tactile 
values and execution; the splendid, gilt, Gothic tombs 
of the Thiene family, in the chapel to the right of the 
choir; and a superb example of Montagna, in a beauti- 
ful Renaissance frame, on the second altar to the left. 
This last was a group of five saints, the Magdalen in 
the centre, of an Umbrian, golden softness and repose, 
their flesh malleable yet strongly moulded, full of 
grace in composition and attitude. Here I saw Mon- 
tagna's powers, — his rich tone, harmonious coloring, 
symmetry of forms, clear-cut execution, and above all, 
restfulness. Such a feeling of dreamy, sweet peace 
came over me as I gazed, that I would have liked to 
live on with those happy saints in their angelic region. 
Last and chief of all, however, came the famous 
Baptism of Christ by Giovanni Bellini, on the fifth 
altar to the left, — one of that great master's few large 
canvases, and one of his few most perfect works. 
Books have been written upon this masterpiece, but 
its wondrous charm cannot be conveyed. The Saviour 
stands in the centre, with gentle, radiant countenance 
and hands folded upon his breast, nude but for a loin- 
cloth, his feet upon the pebbles of the brook; the Bap- 
tist stands upon the bank to the right, considerably 
higher, leaning with outstretched arm to pour the cup 
of water upon the sacred head; three angels of heav- 
enly loveliness watch from the left bank, one kneel- 
ing and two standing; in the rear is a remarkable land- 
scape, both fair and picturesque, — a vale bounded by 
swelling mountains on whose flanks perch towered 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 127 

castles; and at the apex of the azure dome of sky 
appears the half -figure of the Almighty, surrounded 
by winged putti-heads, with His hands spread out in 
blessing, and the Dove of the Holy Ghost speeding 
earthward. Over all is a tone of infinite richness and 
warmth, shimmering with hidden golden light, into 
which blend softly the brown and blue tints of the 
lofty hills; the upper sky is gilded by the sun already 
set, with floating, fleecy cloudlets; but lower down it 
is of fathomless blue. Beautiful as are these access- 
ories, and the forms and faces of the heavenly watch- 
ers, so excellent is the composition that the eye is ever 
led back and focussed on the Christ. There at last 
are a countenance and figure, executed since Giotto's 
time, that rise very near to our lofty ideals of the 
Perfect Man: a wonderful combination of manly 
strength and exquisite grace, powerful yet delicate, 
with a lustre more than mortal radiating from within; 
a face of celestial beauty that yet is virile, stamped 
indefinably with his sorrows, thoughtfulness, and love. 
What a profound emotion shines forth from his eyes, 
from the tense dark figure of St. John, from the 
trembling suspense of the angelic witnesses, from 
the awful majesty of the Father! Surely this is one 
of the very grandest works, not of Italy alone, but of 
all the world. 

Leaving the church, I proceeded to the end of the 
Corso and the building of the Teatro Olympico of 
Palladio, then circled round to the street in rear of it, 
and found a door where I could obtain entrance. The 
female portiere led me through several disused corri- 
dors and rooms, until we emerged suddenly upon the 
end of the stage. Vicenza's famous relic of the classic 
revival lay before me, — a genuine reproduction in 
stucco of a theatre of the ancients. Behind a slightly 



128 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

sunken, semicircular pit for the chorus, rose the seats 
in thirteen tiers, topped by an ornamental screen of 
Corinthian columns supporting a balustraded entabla- 
ture, with statues in niches between the columns, and 
surmounting the balustrade. The stage, with no foot- 
lights, was backed at a short distance by a most 
sumptuous classical fagade, three stories in height, 
which bent forward at right angles at the ends; in its 
centre a high arch afforded a deceptive vista of an an- 
cient city street, lined by palaces, leading straightaway 
to a distant city gate; and smaller squared doorways at 
the sides gave similar vistas running obliquely. 

Between and above these openings the entire 
fagade was extravagantly embellished with a succes- 
sion of niches in classic frames, holding statues, with 
Corinthian columns and half -columns, topped by 
other statues, and tableaux of reliefs on the third 
story; — the whole being about as rich as possible an 
assemblage of ancient architectural forms, with count- 
less stuccoed figures in Roman garb. Even the dimin- 
utive palace fronts on the deceptive sloping streets 
were overloaded with cracked and crumbling statuary. 
But it is wonderfully preserved for stucco-work, and 
one of the best resuscitations of the past to be found 
anywhere. It was entirely Palladio's idea, started by 
him in 1579, though not inaugurated until after his 
death, when Sophocles' (Edipus Tyrannus was pro- 
duced first, in 1584. '^ Ever since then there have been 

^ This is the oldest of the classic Renaissance theatres, because that 
built by Alfonso I of Ferrara for Ariosto has long disappeared. Scamozzi 
soon followed this with his charming court-theatre for Vespasiano Gon- 
zaga at Sabbioneta (1588-90), and G. B. Alleotti, another pupil of Palladio, 
constructed the celebrated Teatro Farnese at Parma in 1618-28; both still 
exist, although in ruinous condition. Palladio's work, therefore, was the 
prototype of these; and he followed closely the precepts of Vitruvius, as 
may be seen, with a few private divergences. The ninety-five statues are 
supposed to be portraits of the local academicians of his day, who fum- 




VICENZA. PALAZZO DA SCHIO, FORMERLY KNOWN AS THE CASA 
AUREA OR CA D' ORO (THE GOLDEN HOUSE). 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 129 

and still are, productions of the Greek dramas at 
intervals, as well as other plays; and it affords Vicenza 
a convenient assembly-hall for large gatherings. 

The remainder of that morning, and the afternoon 
also, I spent in the Museo Civico, across the Piazza 
Vittorio Emanuele. Scattered about the ground floor 
and in the court of the palace, I found fragments of a 
Roman theatre and other antiquities ; the upper floor, 
reached by a stairway to the left in the court, is nearly 
all devoted to the collection of paintings. Here I en- 
tered first the fine large hall occupying the central 
pavilion, which must have been a splendid salon when 
inhabited by the Chieregati family, for it was typical 
of Late-Renaissance grandeur and formality. Room 
number one opened from this to the left rear, — a small 
chamber toward the Corso, — and the series continued 
through other chambers along the same side, proceed- 
ing west. In the first four of them were the best of the 
large assortment of pictures. 

Room I revealed to me a pleasing Domenichino, — 
the Baptist as a boy, preaching, half -seated against 
a rock, with a lamb by his side; also a group of the 
Four Ages by Van Dyck, — the woman very lovely, 
with white soft flesh and speaking eyes and lips, and 
roses in her hands, — the sleeping babe very pretty. 
Room II exhibited an excellent Holy Family with St. 
Catherine, by Campagnola, graceful and rich in tone, 
in an exquisite evening landscape, — and five, sep- 
arate, interesting Madonnas. One of these was by 

ished the funds. A century ago the bTiilding was falling to pieces, but was 
repaired in 1816 through the generosity of Conte Orazio Porto; during 
which reparations the present new roof was superimposed, and painted in 
1828 by Picutti. — The adjoining structure, with its now disused halls and 
chambers, was added to the theatre in 1582 by Scamozzi's designs; and 
from its name, theOdeon, seems to have served the Academy for its pur- 
poses of dramatic culture, and for entertainments. 



130 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Giovanni Bellini, in his usual method, but injured; 
another, by Titian, also injured, but still of exceeding 
beauty in form and color; a third, by Mocetto, Bel- 
lini's pupil, with the Child held erect on the left knee 
before a green tapestry, — an example of what exquis- 
ite paintings often came in that period from artists 
of minor rank; a fourth was labeled Timoteo Viti and 
signed "Joannes Belinus," — doubtless a forgery; for, 
though of attractive moulding and lighting, it was not 
at all in Bellini's style, but more like Raphael's master, 
in the flesh work; while the fifth (number 207) was by 
an unknown artist, — a superb creation of the Venetian 
school, of striking beauty in the face and hands. In 
Room III was another mystery, a portrait of a young 
man with flowing golden hair C^SS) bearing the unmis- 
takable marks of the manner of Leonardo da Vinci, 
and probably by Luini or Solario or another of his 
pupils. Here also I found to my delight a very early 
and lovely work of Cima, — the Madonna with Saints 
James and Jerome, of his usual golden tone and grace- 
ful repose. Iloom iv contained the Montagnas, and 
other chief works of the Vicentine school: most 
beautiful of all was that master's group of the Ma- 
donna with Saints John and Jerome, splendidly com- 
posed, modeled, and colored, of fine atmosphere and 
perspective. Among other masters were Jacopo Bas- 
sano's Madonna with Saints Catherine and Mary 
Magdalen, and Girolamo del Toso's Madonna with 
Saints Catherine and ApoUonia; both engaging ta- 
bleaux; — but the Montagnas, with their peculiar 
grace and pietistic feeling, their glow of tone and rich 
coloring, alone repaid me for my journey. 

The remaining rooms in the rear contained inferior 
paintings, portraits, Murano glassware, engravings, 
drawings, architectural plans of Palladio, Scamozzi, 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 131 

and Calderari, and the collections of coins and natural 
history. Returning to the entrance-hall, whose spa- 
cious walls were lined with the better quality of pic- 
tures, I found an unusually grand specimen of Jacopo 
Bassano, — a majestic tableau of the Rettori of Vi- 
cenza kneeling to the Madonna, with Saints Mark and 
Vincenzo by her side; a large, powerful work, in his 
customary dark tone, of striking modeling, and light 
and atmospheric effects. Here also was an anonymous 
but extremely beautiful Madonna with two Saints 
(number 5) of splendid fleshwork, coloring, and grace, 
with a lovely background on the right, of rounded hills 
crested by towered and battlemented towns. 

Another day I spent in wandering about the still 
unvisited parts of the ancient city, particularly those 
north of the Corso Umberto, looking for interesting 
palaces and churches. Commencing where I had the 
other day, at Santo Stefano, I found immediately 
opposite, in the same Contrada Zanella, another of 
Palladio's unfinished but monumental palaces, — the 
Thiene, constructed for Vicenza's long preeminent, 
noble family of that name.^ It has an extraordinary 
f agade : the basement of bricks laid to resemble blocks 
of rusticated rough stone, the great windows of the 
piano nobile adorned at their angles with Ionic col- 
umns encased in cubic stone blocks at intervals (a 
hideous decadence) and the whole structure giving 
a ponderous Egyptian-like effect, — the beginnings of 
the Rococo. The back of this palace is lighter and 
more graceful, because of earlier construction, its win- 
dows being relieved with simple cotta mouldings and 
the wall-spaces colored with modern frescoes. 

^ This edifice, now occupied by the Banca Populare, represents but one 
quarter of the original plans drawn by Palladio, — which, if carried out, 
would have given us one of the few most princely residences of the whole 
peninsula. 



132 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

The Corso Porti, which this back looks upon, has a 
number of other fine buildings, — it is a street of 
palaces. Opposite the Thiene stands the Porto Bar- 
barano, also by Palladio, an example of his best work, 
imposing with its heavy string-courses and rows of 
Ionic and Corinthian half-columns; and further to the 
north, on the left, rise in perfect contrast a whole 
group of buoyant Gothic structures, beautiful both 
in the ensemble and individually. Colonnaded win- 
dows of four ogive, trefoil arches, grace their second 
stories, also single windows with charming, Gothic, 
marble balconies; and through sculptured entrance- 
arches one looks into colonnaded Gothic courts with 
delightful staircases. Then comes another Palladian 
palace, the second of the two Colleoni standing side by 
side, of which the first is Gothic; and so it continues 
through the quarter, — airy and massive styles in 
close juxtaposition, one setting off the other. 

In the northern part of the Contrada S. Lorenzo, 
farther to the west, I found the Gothic church of that 
name, datiflg from 1185, — a spacious dusky edifice of 
good proportions, adorned with the tombs of Mon- 
tagna and Scamozzi; it fronts on a, little piazza decor- 
ated with a'monument to the poet Giacomo Zanella, 
who was a Vicentine. Near the Corso in this same 
street stands one of Palladio's finest efforts, the great 
Palazzo Valmarana. I ended my tour at the extreme 
northwestern part of the town, where the smaller 
Church of S. Rocco gave me what I had been seeking, 
a good example of Buonconsiglio; — for the one or two 
of his canvases in the Museo were not impressive. 
This, however, was an exquisite pietistic canvas, a 
Madonna with four saints, of blissful repose and truly 
wonderful coloring.^ 

^ A conception of the true height of Buonconsiglio's undoubted genius 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 133 

On my last day at Vicenza I combined a ramble 
over the southern section with my visit to Monti 
Berici. After some wandering I struck the Basilica 
Palladiana, and turned directly southward by the 
street from the Piazza Erbe; it quickly crossed the nar- 
row Retrone, affording me an excellent view of the 
bridge next on the east, the graceful, white Ponte S. 
Michele, which was constructed on classic lines, with 
a single wide span, by Palladio. My way, the Corso 
SS. Apostoli, continued southward between three- 
storied, stuccoed dwellings, past the large Teatro 
Garibaldi with its huge classic portico, until I came 
to the enceinture-street, formerly just inside the city 
wall, called Porta S. Giuseppe; in this, just to the left, 
still stands one of the city gates (for the walls are de- 
molished) — the Porta del Luzzo, its arch of great 
stones being intact from Roman days, with brick 
additions of the Middle Ages. Further to the left, 
inside, I discovered one of the most curious little 
houses that it has ever been my lot to see : of general 
Renaissance lines, its basement was built of irregular 
stones and broken bricks, with windows framed by 
stucco set to represent rusticated stone blocks; the 
windows of the upper story were framed by half- 
columns of brick chipped all over their rounding sur- 
faces; beside these were two niches holding statues, 
and over them ran a stone Doric frieze surmounted 
by other statues; — altogether a potpourri of fascinat- 
ing horror. 

Beyond the gate I followed to the right for a short 
way the old city moat, still flowing with water, and 
struck a road which took me southward to the foot of 

can best be obtained, strange to say, at the little town of Montagnana 
(q. v.), for which he painted three or four canvases of extraordinary size 
and beauty. 



134 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Monti Berici; this it climbed gently between rows of 
majestic trees until it reached the beginning of the 
brick arcade, constructed in the quattrocento to cover 
the pious pilgrims ascending on their knees, and give 
them holy stations at which to stop and pray. From 
all over northern Italy they came for generations, — 
merely because some one in 1428 had alleged that the 
Virgin had appeared to him on the summit; and the 
Church of Madonna del Monte had therefore been 
erected over the spot, with supposed miraculous pow- 
ers of healing. Italy has many such pilgrimage arcades, 
but this is surely one of the longest. Away up the 
fertile green slope I could see it climbing, climbing, 
until it turned to the right at three hundred and fifty 
yards distance, and continued as far again: an un- 
broken arched corridor with much-worn steps, open 
only on the left between the pillars, with landings 
every few rods adorned by crucifixes and fair frescoes 
of the life of the Saviour. The peasants no longer 
ascend on their knees, but some of them do pray at all 
the stations,, — doubtless sent up for penances by their 
confessors. 

As I slowly mounted, my thoughts reverted again to 
those bloody days of 1848, when this same religious 
passage was the scene of terrible struggles, the Ital- 
ians using it as one of their chief defenses, and fighting 
with the bayonet on each landing in turn, until the 
steps were choked with the dead and dying. — Then 
my eyes were arrested by another road ascending the 
hill some way to the east, and by a glittering white 
object at its foot, which on closer observation and in- 
quiry proved to be a beautiful ornamental arch of Re- 
naissance days, — the Arco delle Scalette of Palladio, 
crowned with statues and a Venetian Lion. — At last 
I reached the summit, after running the fire of a num- 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 135 

ber of holy-relic sellers near the top, and saw the 
church rising before me on broad, high steps, in the 
shape of a Greek cross, — as it was reconstructed in 
1688. 

Far below on the north lay the thousands of roofs 
of Vicenza in their warm red tiles, surmounted by 
towers here and there, packed closely in the luxuriant 
vale, with the foothills of the Alps soaring behind, on 
the west and northwest, higher and ever higher, till 
they became distant dark peaks against the sky. Far 
away to the east spread the plain of Venetia, an im- 
mense, verdurous, green ocean, sparkling with the 
white dots of farmhouses and villages, its haze-shrouded 
horizon describing a great quarter-circle, from Bassano 
to Padua; and to the south extended the top ridge of 
the Berici, along which Radetskyhad finally advanced, 
dark with woods upon the summit and upper flanks, 
from whose umbrageous depths peeped glistening 
villa-towers and grim, castellated keeps. 

Within the church I found one of those overdecked, 
overgilded, Late-Renaissance interiors, with fine col- 
umns hidden by gaudy cloths with gilt fringe, and 
altars adorned by tinseled, crowned Madonnas; but 
one altar, to the right of the choir, held a genuine 
treasure, a masterpiece of Montagna, representing the 
Pietd. The body of the Christ was of most realistic 
moulding, and very clearly dead, though not at all 
spiritual in aspect; the Madonna's attitude and grief 
were moving, as were St. Joseph's, who, wringing his 
hands at the left in agony, apparently feels that he 
cannot approach closer to that holy intimacy of Mother 
and Son. 

In a room back of the choir on the floor below I saw 
another good painting, the celebrated Banquet of 
Paolo Veronese which was cut to pieces by the Aus- 



186 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

trian troopers in 1848; it has been admirably pieced 
together, and shows a typical, huge, Veronese dining- 
scene, with all its accessories of colonnades, stairways, 
marbles, richest vestments, fine plate, Venetian patri- 
cians, climbing urchins, and varied animals. Near this 
room was a charming little Gothic cloister, with a 
handsome Renaissance well-top. Behind the church 
on the east were two monuments to those who died 
fighting on this spot in 1848, one of them a statue 
dedicated by Vicenza to "The Genius of the Insur- 
rection.'* 

On descending the arcade, at the turning-point half- 
way down I bore to the east along a lower ridge, whose 
gradual slope to the southeast conducted me past some 
fine villas, to the famous residence known as the "Ro- 
tonda," built by Palladio for the Marchese Capra. It 
is one of the master's most pure and most successful 
creations: a central square structure of two stories, 
containing a circular domed hall, and adorned on each 
of the four sides with a massive, Ionic, six-columned 
portico, approached by lofty steps and crowned with 
statues.^ Here, upon Radetsky's final assault in 1848, 
over three thousand trained Austrian troops were held 
at bay for hours by three hundred young students of 
the University. What a spirit blazed in those brave 
hearts, — the spirit that makes miracles possible; 
naught else could have accomplished the wonder of 
free, united Italy. 

I found two interesting excursions that can be easily 

^ This imposing design has often been reproduced in English villas, at 
Chiswick, Tunbridge Wells, and elsewhere, and particularly at the royal 
French estate of Marly. — The Villa Valmarana, near the Rotonda, con- 
tains several frescoes by G. B. Tiepolo, in his usual decorative manner. 

A fine example of Montagna may also be found in the environs, — 
a beautiful canvas of the Madonna between Saints John and Anthony, at 
the Church of S. Giovanni Ilarione. 




VICENZA. VILLA ROTONDA BY PALLADIO AND SCAMOZZL 




VICENZA. PUBLIC MUSEUM. 



VICENZA THE PALATIAL 137 

taken from Vicenza within a day's time. The first, 
and more important, is by the little railway to the 
Val d' Asti, which passes the towns of Thiene and 
Schio, situated where the foothills slope into the plain 
some fifteen miles to the north, — the birthplaces of 
the two great Vicentine families known by their names. 
Thiene has one of the castles that belonged to Barto- 
lomeo Colleoni, decorated with a number of fine paint- 
ings: a series of frescoes by Paolo Veronese, another 
by Battista Zellote of Verona, and one of Gaudenzio 
Ferrari's characteristic, beautiful angels making mel- 
ody. From here it is a splendid drive along the foot- 
hills eastward to Bassano, through the fascinating, 
picturesque old town of Marostica, with its Rocca 
and its Renaissance villas.^ Schio, a city of thirteen 
thousand people, is of less account, although its large 
Duomo and cemetery are worth seeing if one is there, 
also several of its grand houses. The second trip is 
by the tramway up the Valdagno to the northwest, 
passing Montecchie, with its huge ruined castles of 
that family (the Montagues of Shakespeare's Verona) 
and the handsome Villa Cordellina, decorated with 
frescoes by G. B. Tiepolo. From the town of Valdagno 
it is a pretty mountain-drive to the celebrated Baths 
of Recoaro, with their numerous large hotels. 

^ See next chapter, at the close of " Bassano." 



CHAPTER V 

BASSANO, CITTADELLA, AND CASTELFEANCO 

The hamlets rested on the Tyrol's brow. 
The Asolan and Euganean hills. 
The Rhsetian and the Julian, — sadness fills 
Them all, for Eccelin vouchsafes to stay 
Among, and care about them; day by day 
Choosing this pinnacle, the other spot, 
A castle building to defend a cot. 

Robert Bbowning's Sordello. 

I DEPARTED from Vicenza, not by the main line of rail- 
road by which I had come, but over the branch line 
extending northeasterly through Cittadella and Castel- 
franco to Treviso, parallel with the bases of the Alps 
and about ten miles distant therefrom. This fair 
region, one of the richest of Venetia, is a long gradual 
slope from the mountains to the sea-level, percolated 
by countless swift streams that are fed by the melted 
snows, and thickly covered by habitations and vil- 
lages. Besides its exceptional fertility — due to the 
abundant watering and good drainage, and its eleva- 
tion of one to four hundred feet above the marshiness 
of the lower lands — it has always been an important 
field for travellers to or from the north, traversed and 
fought over by invading armies since the dawn of 
Italy. For into its smiling meadows debouch two 
great routes from the Tyrol and German lands: one 
near the middle of its Alpine barrier, — the Val Su- 
gana, which is the defile of the Brenta, — the other 
at its eastern end, the Valley of the Piave, descending 
from the Cadore country with its three well-trodden 



BASSANO 139 

passes. Just where the Brenta emerges from its gap, 
sits the Httle but important city that has always 
guarded for Italy the Sugana Pass, — Bassano; which 
therefore has ever been an object of fierce contentions, 
and subjected to as many external vicissitudes as a 
city of the first rank. 

Bassano, a place of but fifteen thousand inhabitants 
to-day and never much larger, was an object of tender 
solicitude to the rulers of Imperial Rome, and of rapa- 
cious desire to all the medieval tyrants of northeastern 
Italy, from the bloody Ezzelino downward. In general 
it shared the successive fortunes of its neighbor, 
Vicenza. After suffering much from the cruelties of 
Ezzelino, — who was Bassano's hereditary lord, and 
had constructed over the town one of his heavy for- 
tresses, where he and his brother Alberico often re- 
sided, — the city followed Vicenza into the clutches 
of the Delia Carrara, and, after their defeat by Can 
Grande, into the possession of the Scaligers; with the 
fall of the latter it became the prey of the Visconti, 
was one of the many towns included in the duchy 
with which the Emperor Wenceslaus in 1395 invested 
Gian Galeazzo, and was left by the latter to his son 
Filippo Maria. With Vicenza, finally, when Filippo's 
mother made that ominous call for aid, Bassano and 
all this region found happier days in the iron grasp 
of Venice. As the Republic neared its end, nearly 
four centuries later, under the victorious advance of 
Napoleon against the Austrians, Bassano was the 
scene of that battle which proved the doom of her 
suzerain. Wormser, with his second great Austrian 
army, defeated and driven up the Adige, had re- 
turned into Italy by the Val Sugana, followed all the 
way by the untiring French; just as he had finally 
regained the open country at Bassano, Napoleon over- 



140 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

took and forced him to give battle; and the citizens, 
watching the terrible conflict from their walls, saw the 
French power emerge supreme over the shattered and 
dispersed Austrians. The fall of the ancient Republic 
became then only a matter of months. 

The little city also took her peculiar and secure posi- 
tion in the history of art, by giving birth in the heyday 
of the Renaissance to the several generations of the 
family of Da Ponte. The first of these famous painters 
—usually called after their town instead of by their 
family name — was Francesco, the elder, who labored 
at the close of the quattrocento^ and in the earlier, more 
confined, pietistic manner, with a grace and pictur- 
esqueness all his own. His son Jacopo was the greatest 
of them all, bringing to full development their charac- 
teristic dark "tone and hazy, shadowy, luminous atmo- 
sphere. He was followed by his three sons, Leandro, 
Francesco the younger, and Girolamo, of whom the 
first-named best sustained the tradition, some of his 
numerous works being truly of wonderful merit. But 
so distinctive is* the method of them all, that they are 
the one family of artists whose pictures can be de- 
tected at a glance by the veriest tyro. Many and 
scattered as are their works, and capable of being well 
studied at Venice, still their native city is the one place 
where they can be fully understood and appreciated; 
for there are far more of them here than in any other 
town, and they have been gathered side by side in one 
large hall of the Museo. 

The train that conveyed me from Vicenza was made 
up of a half-dozen very old and worn-out little coaches, 
of four to five compartments each, upholstered with 
very soiled and frayed cloth on very hard seats; and 
they swayed and rocked like a ship in a gale, to the 
jerks of a puffy little engine fit for the scrap-heap, at 



BASSANO 141 

degrees of inclination sufficient to alarm an unhabitu- 
ated foreigner. As we rolled slowly through the end- 
less fields, of corn and by the everpresent habitations, 
always overlooked by distant cam'panili, the Alps 
accompanied us on the north, their noble line of snow- 
clad peaks soaring above the nearer summits black 
with forests. At the station of Cittadella I had to 
change to another branch line, running from Padua to 
Bassano; the little town itself, famous for its perfect 
medieval walls, was hidden at some distance by the 
abundant trees. 

The second train was very like the first in composi- 
tion and action; and it was slowly indeed that we 
climbed the northward slope to the mountains. I still 
sat upon the left, and as my eyes roamed over the dis- 
tant villages to the west, my thoughts once more re- 
verted to the monstrous Ezzelino; for it was here, in 
this happy-looking country between Vicenza and Bas- 
sano, at a place called Priola, that he perpetrated the 
most celebrated of all his infamies, and perhaps the 
most inhuman outrage of any that this world has suf- 
fered. The villagers, well knowing what to expect in 
any event, had offered what resistance they could to 
the tyrant's troops; and when their castle fell, Ezze- 
lino took every man, woman, and child alive in the 
place, regardless of age or condition (some accounts 
say two thousand in number), destroyed their eyes, 
cut off their noses and legs, and cast them into the 
fields to die of weakness and want. No wonder the 
Pope declared a crusade against him as an infidel and 
a scourge to mankind. 

The approaching Alps had steadily loomed higher 
and higher, until the greater peaks disappeared be- 
hind the foothills, now close at hand, and the level 
slppe changed into long rounded swells. Bassano came 



142 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

in sight to the left, behind her medieval walls, and we 
stopped at a station some way to the south of them. I 
stepped into one of the two little rickety albergo omni- 
buses in waiting, and was jolted heavily over the cob- 
blestones, through a picturesque old city gate with 
high Gothic arch, down a narrow street that led north- 
ward to the centre of the town. There I found three 
piazzas, running east and west, connected by short 
passages ; the middle one much larger than the others, 
and fronted by the principal church and cafles. The 
inn proved to be just off the western piazza, — an old, 
irregular building behind a little court, with a littered 
stableyard on one side; the ground floor occupied by the 
kitchen and dining-rooms, the bedrooms hidden about 
dark winding passages above. The house was full of 
guests from neighboring towns, who made the cor- 
ridors reecho with their continuous shouting, — the 
peasants' customary tone of conversation; and I 
learned that a bicycle-meet was to occur here on the 
morrow, the participants riding in battalions from 
their respective villages. After a dinner in company 
with various gentlemen who ate with their hats on 
(according to the peasant's manner), consumed 
alarming quantities of meat and macaroni with the 
sole aid of their knives, and roared continuously at 
each other with deafening bellows, I solaced my 
nerves with' some caffe nero at a sidewalk table in 
the main piazza; and then found a cinematograph 
exhibition, which gave a performance of five numbers 
for the modest sum of thirty centesimi, in the first 
class. 

Moving pictures are now the one great amusement 
of the Italians. There is hardly a town so small as 
not to possess at least one such show; and the prices 
are usually twenty centesimi for the. second class. 



y^M 




BASSANO 143 

thirty or forty for the first. ^ Here the national love 
of tragedy is prominently manifested; the popular 
piece must have plenty of blood-letting, and above 
all a harrowing j^m5, that leaves most of the charac- 
ters upon the ground. Especially successful this even- 
ing was the story of Parasina; when it ended with the 
death of herself and Ugo upon the block, a united sigh 
of satisfaction arose from the excited populace. The 
concluding number, as always, was supposed to be 
very funny — *' comicissima," — and consisted of the 
usual chase of one person by many others, at whose 
clearly intentional tumbles the audience roared with 
delight. 

I had an unsuccessful night, disturbed until 4 or 5 
A.M. by a tremendous carousal in the eating-rooms 
below, constantly increased by new arrivals, — shouts 
and songs alternating with speeches, that invariably 
wound up with the modern Italian imitation of the 
Anglo-Saxon cheer, — a languid "Eep! — Eep! — 
Urrah!" — that sounded as if it pained the deliver- 
ers; and it was therefore rather late in the morning 
when I again returned to the main piazza, to find that 
it had' been decorated during the night by a dozen red 
masts bearing bright streamers and festoons ; while all 
around the walls were pasted placards, announcing in 
large letters the various prizes that were to be con- 
ferred, — upon the best-decorated bicycle, the most 
fanciful characterization, the most comical rider, and 
so forth. It is curious to notice how in rural Italy the 
modern fads, customs, and fashions follow faithfully 

1 In the cities there is often also a third class, costing ten centesimi; at 
which rate children and private soldiers are nearly everywhere admitted, 
— the latter proving the mainstay of the business in garrison-towns. As 
a teacher for them of general information, it is invaluable; and one sees 
them, night after night, drinking in with open mouths the wonders of this 
world. 



144 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

those of the northern nations from five to ten years 
behind; and so the bicycle frenzy is now at the height 
which it attained with us a decade ago. 

There is nothing monumental about this old market- 
place, nor suggestive of the town's historic past, ex- 
cept the lofty, medieval, brick tower rising above the 
house-tops at the northeast corner, and the town 
clock-tower, on the north side, which has an open 
loggia in its first floor, supported on Romanesque col- 
umns, and a Gothic balustrade across its top, where 
the town bell swings in the open. The buildings, 
arcaded upon the east, west, and north sides, have 
very plain, stuccoed, modern-looking f agades. All traces 
of the frescoes that once adorned them have dis- 
appeared. The south side is dominated by the huge 
Church of S. Giovanni Battista, with a Late-Renais- 
sance fagade, its central pediment upheld by four 
great Corinthian half-columns, — too baroque in the 
whole effect to be imposing. Nothing exhibited the 
decrepitude of age, except the Gothic belfry-arches 
and battlenvents of the brick tower, — only remnant 
of the former palace of the Venetian podestas, — and 
a lonely crumbling statue of some mitred saint, on a 
rococo column at the western end. 

I entered the church, which proved to be of curious 
shape, its spacious nave running parallel with the 
fagade, the recess of its choir opening in the middle of 
the farther side; but on an altar to left of the choir 
stood a very beautiful painting by Girolamo da Ponte, 
representing St. Filomena, — a dainty white figure 
full of exquisite softness, grace, and expressive loveli- 
ness, elegantly modeled and posed, with two other 
saints at her sides, and a Madonna and Child of unus- 
ual beauty overhead. It was a revelation to me of the 
full powers of that artist. To the right of the choir 



BASSANO 145 

was an excellent canvas of his father, Jacopo, — S. 
Antonio di Padova between two angels, with a cherub 
below and others above ; opposite it on the entrance 
wall was his St. Paul preaching in the Roman Forum; 
both were finely conceived and drawn, in his usual, 
soft, dark tone and atmosphere. In the sacristy I 
found an extraordinary thing: a lifesize terra-cotta 
group behind glass, representing St. John baptizing 
Jesus, attended by David and another prophet and 
five angels, — clearly a Tuscan work of the beginning 
of the cinquecento, and alleged by the parroco to be a 
labor of the rare Giovanni Minelli de' Bardi. The 
once rich coloring still lingers on the well-composed, 
expressive figures, which, — with the exception of the 
fine Christ and one or two of the angels — are not 
graceful, though dignified and full of feeling. 

When I came out, the piazza was more closely 
thronged than before, and companies of cyclists were 
already arriving by the long, straight way from the 
southern gate, topped by its open loggia, — exciting 
cheers of enthusiasm by their patchwork costumes, 
flags, and loads of flowers, more or less covered by the 
dust of the roads. What especially struck me was 
the number of accompanying children, likewise fanci- 
fully arrayed in upholstery and tassels, manfully 
working their little legs on diminutive machines, and 
clearly exhausted, — some of them not over four or 
five years of age. Not having further time to lose, I 
made my way with diflBculty back to the lower piazza, 
from whose foot a narrow descending street led me 
westward to the river Brenta, and the picturesque old 
wooden bridge across its rapid waters. 

Here was all the interest for which I had looked in 
vain in the city's centre; it was a delightful picture, — 
the mountains soaring close on the north with vast 



146 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

precipitous flanks, green or darkly wooded, tlie wide 
stream emerging from its gorge and bounding, splash- 
ing along over beds of shining pebbles, and the line of 
diversified crumbling houses on the farther bank, lean- 
ing over the ripples with moss-grown walls, decayed 
wooden balconies, broken red-tiled roofs, and little 
courts shady with foliage; while over their roofs rose 
the spires of poplars and cypresses from adjacent 
gardens. It was quite a suburb of Bassano, on the 
farther shore. That side was level ground, stretching 
for some distance to the Alpine wall on the west, lux- 
uriantly dotted with groves of trees, shining villas, 
and clusters of dark cypresses; while to the south it 
merged into the boundless plain, covered by an opales- 
cent haze of heat.^ 

Not the least of the picture was the curious bridge 
that strode over the bluish-gray water on piers of oaken 
beams, wooden also in its parapets, and the gabled 
roof with its numerous supporting pillars. The former 
stone bridge was destroyed by the French on that 
memorable occasion of 1796. Across the worn plank- 
ing was coming a steady procession of peasantry, afoot, 
on mule-back, and in little two-wheeled vehicles, — 
packed like sardines, six in a box, seated upon the 
floor with legs dangling over; all doubtless eager to 
behold the wonders of the bicycle-meet. Advancing 
upon the bridge I gazed delightedly, amidst the hub- 
bub, at the brightly colored groups of women washing 

1 So charming is this landscape that it quite carried away the imagina- 
tion of Mr. William Beckford, when he descended through the Sugana 
Pass. "It was now I beheld," he wrote, "groves of olives, and vines cluster- 
ing the summits of the tallest elms; pomegranates in every garden, and 
vases of citron and orange before almost every door. — I felt sensations of 
joy and novelty run through my veins, on beholding this smiling land of 
groves and verdure." — W. Rockford, Italy, with Sketches of Spain and 
Portugal. 





BASSANO. THE RIVER BRENTA WITH THE WOODEN BRIDGE. 




BASSAXO. PIAZZA VITTORIO EMANUELE 



BASSANO 147 

on the bank below, at tlie foaming rapids, the strips 
of gleaming sand, and the mill-wheels turning lazily; 
then I caught the scene's completing note, — two 
grim, dark, medieval towers soaring against the sky, 
upon the top of the rising ground to the northeast, 
casting over the landscape the spell of the dread past 
of battle-axe and dungeon. For they rose from the 
old fortress of Ezzelino, that has echoed with such 
countless cries of suffering and sorrow. 

I decided to make my way to the castle, and on re- 
turning to the little piazza at the bridge's end came 
immediately upon another interesting relic, — a tall, 
aged, stuccoed house standing upon the elevated north- 
ern side of the area, part- way up the hill; clearly a 
medieval structure, that once was covered with rich 
frescoes. From this location came the surname of 
Bassano's family of painters, — for it was the resid- 
ence of the "Da Ponte." There they all lived, from 
generation to generation, four hundred years ago, that 
here seemed but as yesterday. An old dame, who had 
paused by my side, assured me that there were no per- 
sonal relics of the family remaining within; so I pressed 
on up the slope, until I finally reached, by a round- 
about course, another open space far above the stream 
and not far from the precincts of the fortress. 

Here the view over the flat country to the west was 
more extensive and lovelier; it presented the aspect of 
a luxuriant park, massed with rich copses, glistening 
with villas ensconced in dales and perched on verdant 
knolls, with rows of poplars lining hidden roads and 
cypresses gathering their dark points around ancient 
monasteries. In one spot they outlined the square of 
a large camposanto, the burial-ground of Bassano, 
whose white stones gleamed through the shadowy 
groves. But the closely hemming mountains were the 



148 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

majesty of the scene, soaring behind from steep foot- 
hills to massive peaks; and far to the southwest ap- 
peared the Monti Berici, across the intervening vale 
that held the towers of Vicenza. 

Turning my back at last upon this enchanting land- 
scape, I proceeded toward the castle of Ezzelino, and 
came quickly to the fortress-wall, fronting the street. 
It was of typical medieval construction, and well pre- 
served, as was also the high-arched gateway. Within, 
however, to my surprise, I found nothing older than 
some plastered dwellings and a large stuccoed church, 
which was the Duomo; but no better use could have 
been made of the stones which the despot used for 
cruelties. Only the outer shell remains from his con- 
structions, and the taller of the two towers, whose 
grimness is modified by the bushes spreading over its 
broken summit; the other, plastered and adorned with 
a belfry, serves as the campanile of the church. 

I was glad to step out of the intense heat of the sun 
into the latter's cool interior. It consisted of a nave 
without aisles, and a choir-recess at the end. To the 
right and upon the end wall were three mediocre 
paintings, alleged by the sacristan to be products of 
Leandro da Ponte; one of them was amusing, a battle 
of St. George and the Dragon, in which the beast was a 
fiend of partly human shape, spitting fire, clawing the 
poor saint, and painfully hooking him with a barbed 
tail like a boat-hook. On an altar near this, to the 
right of the choir, was a kneeling marble figure of St. 
Catherine, with a head by Guarinai; and its face was 
of most emotional, gentle, pathetic beauty. On the 
left wall was a copy of Leandro Bassano's Circum- 
cision.' 

Leaving this rather unsatisfactory cathedral, I 
stopped just outside the fortress-gate to admire a 



BASSANO 149 

painted Renaissance mansion on the east, known as 
the house of Lazzaro Buonamici; I could see that the 
critics were right in considering it a splendid specimen 
of the arabesque style of decoration, for the wall- 
spaces were covered with curious patterns, of grace 
and vivid coloring. I took the street leading straight 
away southward from the castle, parallel with the 
river, and soon stopped again, before a high battle- 
mented wall constructed of that strange medley of 
cobblestones and broken bricks which characterizes 
medieval masonry. Set in this wall, in utter contrast, 
was a handsome, marble. Renaissance gateway; set 
upon it, some way from the gate, was a bust of King 
Humbert, covered with faded wreaths; and set within 
it was the courtyard of a ruinous old palace, adorned 
with a picturesque, roofed, outside staircase. 

It was, as I learned, the so-called Palazzo Pretorio. 
I looked for a while at the arched gateway, with its 
unusual decoration of diamond reliefs all over the 
frame; then my interest was diverted to a house- 
front across the way just beyond, holding fragments of 
a large fresco which still clearly showed a fine group of 
lifesize saints and warriors. The composition was 
probably a Massacre of the Innocents, and its pink 
and crimson prevailing hues were still bold enough to 
reveal its original wealth of gorgeous coloring. It 
lifted for an instant, like a lightning flash, the veil 
from those cinquecento days when Bassano, with all 
her sister-cities, was embellished from end to end with 
such vivid paintings, and her every street blazed like a 
hothouse of tropic orchids, — radiant in hue as towns 
of man never have been since. 

The street ended in the upper of the central piazzas, 
close by the old, Gothic, brick tower which I had 
noticed before, and which is said to be the solitary 



150 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

remnant of the palace of the Venetian podestas. On 
the south a brick church fully as ancient turned its 
side to the piazza, decorated with a Romanesque brick 
cornice around its eaves; and adjacent to this I found 
a large Romanesque cloister, with a curious round 
tower from some bygone building in its corner. From 
the eastern end of this piazza another street runs 
southward, and in this, shortly to the right, stands the 
city's Museo Civico with its various collections. 

It was after lunch when I repaired to the Museum, 
forcing my way with difficulty through the crowds, 
which, denser than ever, were watching the judging of 
the different bicycle contests in the market-place. 
Upon entering, I was shown at once to the first floor of 
the large building, into a central rotunda from which 
branched at right angles three fair-sized halls. That to 
the left was filled with plaster casts from the sculp- 
tures of Canova, and two or three of his original mo- 
dels (Canova was born near Bassano, at the little 
village of Possagno,^ and lies buried there in a church 
which he biiilt) ; that to the right held the municipal 
collection of general paintings; and that to the rear 
contained the remarkable aggregation of the works of 
the Da Ponte. I lost no time in investigating the 
latter, which proved to be excellently arranged in 
chronological order. 

First there were two or three canvases by Francesco 
the elder, rather stiff in their figures but quaint and 

^ Possagno is worth a visit by those having the time, if only for the sake 
of the pleasing drive. It lies about ten miles northeast of Bassano, at the 
foot of the imposing precipices of Monte Gruppa; and the good highway 
thither leads via the village of Romano, immortalized as the birthplace of 
Ezzelino and his tribe. The residence of Canova may be seen at Possagno. 
The church which he built is a small imitation of the Pantheon at Rome; it 
contains his tomb, an altar-piece painted by him, one of his sculptures (a 
splendid bronze relief of the Entombment), and a fine canvas by Porde- 
none, called his Madonna della Misericordia. 



BASSANO 151 

pleasing, — especially the large Madonna with Saints 
Peter and Paul, before an engaging landscape of blue 
lake and bluer mountains. Then came the works of 
Jacopo ; perhaps the finest of these was the Baptism of 
Lucille by S. Valentino, — an effective composition, 
strongly lighted ; but there was the usual anachronism 
of Venetian sixteenth-century dress, and even the 
kneeling devout Lucille was garbed in a shimmering 
white satin gown with a rope of pearls. It was wonder- 
fully moulded as to the figures, with much realism of 
action and atmosphere; many consider it Jacopo's 
masterpiece. Others of his pictures here, however, were 
nearly as good, — the Nativity, the Circumcision, and 
S. Martino, especially, — all excellently composed 
and vigorously drawn, with powerful light-effects. . 
The S. Martino lingers with me as a most knightly 
form, on horseback, in full armor but for the head, 
giving his cloak to a beggar whose wretchedness and 
rags form a striking contrast; the horse is splendidly 
modelled, the knight's face full of beneficent feeling. 
Finally came the works of the third generation; fore- 
most of which was Leandro's large canvas represent- 
ing the Podestd of Bassano, Lorenzo Capello, with his 
two small sons and their tutor, making obeisance to 
the Madonna and Saints Clement and Bassiano 
(dated 1597) — a magnificent group of graceful figures, 
finely spaced and disposed, of excellent tactile value, 
in the sun-filtered, heavy atmosphere of a hazy sum- 
mer afternoon ; the shades of coloring, too, were lovely, 
concentrating in the central rich carmine of the cloak 
of the podestd. 

To fill up the final wall-spaces of this hall there were 
a number of modern paintings, including five beautiful 
landscapes, of splendid air- and golden light-effects, 
and three of Roberto Roberti's (1837) charming Ve- 



152 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

netian scenes. The third hall, to right of the rotunda, 
contained a surprising quantity of works of many 
other schools and epochs, and several that were quite 
pleasing. Among these was a Madonna with the 
Child and infant St. Catherine, ascribed to Giovanni 
Bellini, — but, although of considerable worth, the 
features were too poor for that master; also a Ma- 
donna with the child John the Baptist and another 
saint, by Bonifazio Pitati, very rich in tone, grace and 
modeling; a Christ with Mary Magdalen, in a wonder- 
ful evening landscape fringed by golden sky, athwart 
which rise the black spires of cypresses, — by an 
unknown author, exquisite in moulding and expres- 
sion; and one of Bonifazio's Last Suppers, well com- 
posed and realistically drawn. There was further a 
very Giottesque Crucifixion, in tempera on wood, one 
of the few remaining panels of Guariento, of Padua. 
The whole gallery is but one more instance of the in- 
exhaustible wealth in artistic treasures of the count- 
less little cities of Italy. 

In the outskirts of Bassano I found a delightful 
example of the statuesque villas of the Late-Renais- 
sance, the Ca' Rezzonico, constructed in the eight- 
eenth century for the great Venetian family of that 
name, who for generations held their villeggiatura 
here, in much pomp. It is of course a stuccoed build- 
ing, according to the style of that epoch, but of at- 
tractive lines and proportions, with square towers at 
the corners; it has a noble stone portal of baroque 
design, surmounted by a head of Jupiter, and ap- 
proached by wide-spreading steps. To right and left 
of these steps run heavy stone parapets adorned with 
vases, busts, and classic statues, while other sculp- 
tures, shrubs, and flower-beds ornament the front 
lawn to its massive balustrade upon the road. From 



BASSANO 153 

the centre of each side of the villa, high walls, screening 
the grounds in the rear with customary privacy, 
stretch at right angles to columned pavilions, and are 
pierced halfway by classic archways, through which 
one sees mythological divinities posed in gleaming 
marble against the green of luxuriant foliage. 

The interior is still more splendid: a spacious, 
beautiful atrium greets the entering visitor's eye, two 
stories in height and balustraded around the upper 
gallery; all is light in hue, of glistening carved marble 
or delicately moulded stucco, with a surprising absence 
of decadent effects ; the grand marble stairway rises at 
one side, approached through an imposing portico, 
and over this, and the various arched doorways, are 
posed harmonious groups of sculptured figures.^ So 
perfectly has it all preserved the atmosphere of that 
courtly, splendor-loving period, that, as one gazes, 
he half-unconsciously expects to see entering a silk- 
clad noble in periwig and rapier. 

Within the city I discovered but one more item of 
special interest, the Church of Madonna delle Grazie, 
which is remarkable for its corner altar, — canopied, 
sculptured symmetrically in both stone and wood, and 
holding a strange ancient Madonna in an exquisite 
Renaissance frame. Without the city, but easily 
reached by carriage over the fine roads in sixty to 
ninety minutes, there remained of interest the little 
towns of Marostica and Asolo, both situated amongst 
the first foothills of the Alps, — the former about five 
miles to the west, the latter about ten miles to the east. 
But as they are not plain-towns, I will sum them up 

^ Amongst the artistic treasures here is preserved a bas-reHef by 
Canova, representing the Death of Socrates. — The Villa Parolini I 
found to be another mansion of the environs worth visiting, for the sake 
of its enchanting park; and the Church of SS. Trinita, at least until 
recently, contained an excellent Crucifixion by Jacopo da Ponte. 



154 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

by saying that Marostica contains quaint arcaded 
streets, a piazza with Venetian columns, mouldering 
Renaissance palaces, medieval town- walls with pict- 
uresque gateways and crumbling towers, a striking 
old ruined fortress, called the Rocca, and a number 
of fine villas with very pleasing grounds; while Asolo 
is famed as the place to which the widowed Queen 
Caterina Cornaro retired, after handing over Cyprus 
to the Republic, and where she lived- long in much 
well-doing, the centre of a highly cultured circle, — 
including Cardinal Pietro Bembo, who there com- 
posed his "Asolanum";^ it contains the villa which 
the ex-queen and her court occupied, as well as several 
others, and holds in its church a beautiful early work 
of Lorenzo Lotto, — a Madonna with two saints, of 
his usual superb coloring. Browning loved Asolo, — 
and dwelt there long; it inspired his "Pippa Passes," 
and "Asolando."^ 

A fascinating trip by rail from Bassano is up the 
new road through the tremendous defile of the Val 
Sugana, to T:he lovely Lake of Caldonazzo and the 
charming old city of Trento; whence it is but a step 
northward to Bozen and the Tyrol, ^ or a step south- 

^ This celebrated work of that great connoisseur, who has been well 
called "the dictator of letters of his period," and whom Cellini depicted 
so cleverly in his Autobiography, was written before he had become an 
intimate of the glorious Gonzaga court of Isabella d' Este at Mantua; 
and its contents, as Mrs. Oliphant has put it, were "about the fantastic 
little court of Queen Catherine Cornaro at Asolo, a small Decameron, full 
of the unreal prettiness, the masques, the posturing, and versifications of 
the time." He lies buried in S. Antonio at Padua (q. v.), where he also 
dwelt many years. 

^ To foreigners distressed by the midsummer heat of Venetia, there is 
no course so enjoyable and so inexpensive as to journey direct to Bozen by 
this new road (7 hours, 18 lire in the second class). There the hot weeks 
may be passed delightfully at the 4000 feet elevation of Klobenstein, on the 
adjacent Ritten, reached easily by funicolare, — where these words are 
being penned ; or one may seek any other of the scores of cool Tyrolese vil- 
lages on the neighboring heights. 



CITTADELLA 155 

ward to Verona. This same new line has been con- 
ducted from Bassano straight across the plain to 
Venice, passing Castelfranco midway; forming thus 
the shortest route between Venice and the north. On 
leaving Bassano for Cittadella, however, I had to 
descend by the same branch road that had brought 
me up. We rattled and swayed down the imper- 
ceptible slope, leaving the Alps ever farther and 
smaller behind us, and were at Cittadella Station in a 
surprisingly short time; — so powerful is the aid of 
gravity to a distressed and aged Italian locomotive. 

It was, as usual in the Italian summer-time, a won- 
drous clear day, with floods of golden light from a 
cloudless sky; and nature seemed very lovely in spite 
of the heat, as I walked toward the town between 
umbrageous trees and fertile fields glowing with flow- 
ers. To the right of the road soon appeared a little 
stream of sleeping water, sunk between sloping banks, 
dotted with water-plants and shaded by overhanging 
boughs ; then through the dense foliage I discerned the 
farther bank mounting to a height of some twenty to 
thirty feet above the level, and carrying upon its 
summit an ancient, massive city wall, curving far to 
left and right, crowned by decaying battlements which 
reflected themselves peacefully in the silent fosse. In 
their interstices, and upon the tops of the huge square 
towers at intervals, shrubs and bushes flourished, and 
part-way up the crumbling face of the brick curtain 
crept the tendrils and leaves of ivy. 

It was the wall of Cittadella, famous to-day for its 
exceptional preservation. Seven centuries ago it was 
built, long before Ezzelino and his brother tyrants ; the 
Paduans did it, to erect this little town into a fortress 
against the Trevisans, who on their side had made it 
necessary by fortifying Castelfranco. What greater 



156 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

contrast with those turbulent, fratricidal days could 
there be, than this serene and lovely spot, bathed in a 
silence emphasized by the hum of noonday insects. I 
rested awhile upon the grassy bank, under the curving 
branches that dipped the still water; and it was diffi- 
cult indeed to realize that over that very wall before 
me men had fought and bled — had poured down 
stone and iron and boiling oil upon their brothers 
climbing from below — had piled up the slain until 
they choked and crimsoned this peaceful stream. And 
all for what cause? Only because they, children of the 
same race and the same speech, chanced to live some 
in one town and some in another. 

These fortifications did not avail to save Cittadella 
from incurring the successive despotisms of her neigh- 
bors. With them she passed from Delia Carrara to 
Delia Scala, to Visconti, to the Serene Republic; but 
so little has she been that she has earned no part nor 
mention in that troublous history; — and the same 
obscurity operated to preserve her walls, bringing 
them strangely to the front to-day as an admirable 
specimen of a medieval fortress. 

Resuming my walk, I came shortly beyond to the 
southern and principal gateway of the town, the Porta 
Padovana, jutting considerably forward from the wall 
beside a guard-tower of extra size, and approached by 
a brick bridge of later construction. On its decaying 
stuccoed fagade, between the long narrow apertures 
where once emerged the supporting beams of the 
drawbridge, still stood the marble Venetian lion; over 
this was a modern clock-face, and above that again 
the ancient alarm-bell, hanging under a Renaissance 
canopy with four columns. To the right of the gate a 
modern plastered house had found a foothold between 
the moat and the wall, and upon the bridge lounged a 



CITTADELLA 157 

dozen idlers in very modern dress; but to the left the 
long battlements extended as of old, presenting a 
charming picture through the ash trees, cypresses, and 
drooping willows that lined the stream. 

The tunnel-like entrance arch admitted me to three, 
separate, square ante-ports, one behind another, 
hemmed by lofty crenellated walls, and connected by 
similar dark archways; certainly, I thought, it would 
not be an easy matter to take such a gate by assault. 
When I emerged again into the sunshine, the main 
street, Borgo Vicenza, extended straightaway before 
me to the north, of most unusual width, lined by three- 
storied, modern-looking buildings. The plan of the 
little city I found to be very simple, and pleasing : four 
gates in all pierce the circular enceinture, at each of 
the cardinal points of the compass, named after the 
neighboring city on each side; two thoroughfares con- 
nect these entrances, crossing the town in straight 
lines and intersecting at its centre; and at this centre 
lies the piazza, or market-place, with the parish 
church. Looking up the Borgo Vicenza, I could see 
the Porta Bassano at its other end, and that at such a 
comparatively short distance that no one would think 
there could be ten thousand inhabitants in the place. 
The broad street was arcaded on each side, affording 
me a grateful relief from the down-beating sun as I 
passed one little shop after another, and nearly as 
many dark caffes ; the last were all crowded to over- 
flowing, — for it was a festa. 

I stepped into one of these narrow drinking-places 
— the villager's sole club and recreation — and found 
that it opened behind into a pleasant arbor shaded by 
luxuriant vines, where a dozen peasants were gossiping 
and singing over bottles of wine on plain board tables. 
I took a glass of beer, which proved to be quite fair. 



158 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

and listened for a minute to the conversation; they 
were discussing sociaHsm and its theories, — if not 
with a broad grasp, at least with strong feeling and 
partisanship. Nothing is more significant of the future 
than the constantly increasing spread of those doc- 
trines amongst the lower classes; the Mayor of Rome 
to-day is a socialist; and his party seems to be steadily 
advancing from municipal to governmental control. 

The central piazza proved to be of considerable size, 
with the Municipio overlooking it on the west from a 
columned Palladian f agade, — a comparatively mod- 
ern structure, — and the church rising on the north 
side. The latter was a large brick edifice, faced by six 
huge half -columns, also of brick, but possessing white, 
Corinthian, plaster caps; the Corinthian cornices of 
the pediment were likewise of stucco, and the base- 
ment of white limestone. Next it I observed a dwell- 
ing bearing remains of a large, early, figured fresco, 
with traces still lingering of its once florid coloring. 
Here crossed the east and west thoroughfare, its vistas 
framed by similar modest dwellings and ending in the 
lofty arches of the other two city gates, — Porta 
Treviso and Porta Vicenza. 

Shortly to eastward on this Via Venti Settembre 
stood the Prefettura, its f agade showing fragments of 
extensive painting, and adorned with a red marble 
Renaissance doorway, over which was the old Vene- 
tian lion, of the usual polished white marble. Evid- 
ently there had been little outward change here since 
the days of the Republic's podestas. TheTrevisan gate 
at the east end bore also, over its heavy archway, the 
remains of a large mural painting. The Porta Bassano 
at the north was the most heavily fortified entrance of 
the four; here there were four separate fortified ports, 
a number which I have very seldom seen elsewhere, 





U 


kg":*.: 






if ' _,.■ 


:i ' 






^^3 


•i 


•Tfei 


w m 


^r^r-.'-^ 


... , 




.i.-^ai£^ 


tiniiTiJilii ' 


^ 


^s^^?;.-';^^ 
^.!«i*^ 


pv 




i^^ 


1*;:'. 


'.^ 





^^^' 




P^-- 
'^^^... 




4 - '4'^ ^ 


• ^«#^- 


'C?;;_;i' 


^^■^ '' 






:.'«: 


b^.',: 


»",. j.^ • . 


« 


i^^S^^f':^ 








.'■ ,■,'.>"■■■ 




R 










■::"-^i 


•;'. 


i; 




J3I 




i^^^ 




■*rv-i.-.-.. 


!jf^^;^ 


\ 


' ■' 














N 


A 


... ^9 


1^, 
■ J 


- 




■55'h^^ 


^^a^^r 


?5SP 


g:~ 




'■•T 



CITTADELLA 159 

that I remember, — two inside the wall, one within its 
thickness, and one outside. All over them, and upon 
the wall proper, which here was as lofty in places as 
seventy-five feet above the moat, were battlements of 
unusual length, — those upon the foremost ante-port 
being Ghibelline, or forked. The fosse, here also, had 
lost all its warlike aspect under the peaceful shade of 
cypresses and drooping willows ; and its rounding inner 
bank, mounting high to the brickwork, was prettily 
covered with shrubs and shade-trees. 

Returning to the church, I found the morning con- 
gregation just streaming out, and entered past them 
into the spacious nave. There were no aisles ; and upon 
the side altars, to my surprise, stood a number of inter- 
esting canvases. The first on the left held a work of 
Leandro Bassano, an azure Madonna in clouds, above 
S. Francesco and other saints, including a bishop of 
marvelously embroidered robe; — a strongly painted 
picture, of fine tone and grace and modeling. Next it 
was a remarkable Crucifixion from the same hand, 
representing the Father as bending from heaven to 
embrace the dying Son upon the Cross, with the Ma- 
donna and various other saints grouped below, and — 
curiously enough — Christ again represented as the 
Child in his mother's arms; this was also a strong work, 
clearly and vigorously drawn and moulded, in an 
exquisite deep rich tone, with hazy atmosphere, and 
softest coloring in broad masses. There were, further, 
a good Pieta of the school of Mantegna, clearly show- 
ing that master's style, and in the sacristy, a most 
realistic Supper in Emmseus by Francesco Bassano the 
younger. So once more was it demonstrated that in 
wonderful Italy no village is too small to have its 
masterpieces. 

As I wended my way back to the station, I passed, 



160 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

outside the southern gateway, on the left, a building 
that was an enlightening example of the way in which 
these small towns are still erecting fine edifices; it was 
a newly finished mansion of three or four stories, of 
remarkably pure and beautiful Renaissance lines, — a 
delight to the eye. Twenty minutes later I had caught 
my train, and was speeding (?) to Castelfranco. We 
went a little north of east, through the same ever fer- 
tile landscape, varied only by the lofty ridge of the Alps 
keeping us company on the left; and in half an hour or 
less I had descended at my destination. This was not, 
I will own, without considerable misgivings; for the 
sun was already well toward the horizon, and the 
necessity stared me in the face of spending the night in 
this out-of-the-way place. But I plucked up my cour- 
age with the reflection, that in Italy a bed is always 
comfortable, and followed a porter with my bag on his 
shoulder to the first-named hosteli*y in the guidebook. 
Ten minutes northward walking brought us into the 
town, and^five more to its central piazza. Then there 
loomed suddenly before me a castle of such size as I 
had never seen before, — its vast, battlemented, brick 
wall sweeping on northward from tower unto tower 
for full half a mile, apparently, topped in the centre by 
a keep of huge proportions, while to the westward ran 
another side of equal length; both walls rose upon an 
artificial bank thirty to forty feet in height, at whose 
foot flowed the ancient sluggish moat; and over their 
battlements within soared other towers, and domes, 
and roofs of buildings. It was a startling sight to 
burst upon one's view so unexpectedly, impressive in 
its grandeur, its sense of might, and intimacy with 
medieval days. At each corner of the fortress — the 
southeastern one where I stood, and those which I 
could discern at the ends of the two sides — were 



CASTELFRANCO 161 

square piles of enormous massiveness; but those in the 
middle of the lines were by far the loftiest, and evid- 
ently guarded of old the entrances ; that on the south- 
ern wall had had a belfry added to its summit, and 
beside it there loomed above the battlements the high 
white apse and dome of a large church. 

Thus I saw that this was not an individual castle, 
but a town-fortress, containing streets and varied 
buildings; — it was the original Castelfranco, which 
the Trevisans erected as their fortified outpost against 
the raiding Paduans in 1199, and also to act as a re- 
straint upon the freebooting proclivities of the Cam- 
posampiero family, who occupied a stronghold not far 
away (now demolished). "The colony of Trevisans 
who first settled here lived entirely outside the castle, 
and pledged themselves to maintain 200 horse for the 
defense of the frontier. In return for this service they 
were exempt from certain taxes, and therefore called 
their dwelling 'Free Castle.' " ^ They earned their ex- 
emption, for there was an almost constant state of 
warfare, brigandage, and harassing tactics against 
Treviso's enemies on this side, until the territory was 
acquired by Venice in 1329, — the first step of the 
Republic upon the mainland. Under her sway Castel- 
franco was seldom disturbed; the chief exception being 
the advance of the Emperor Maximilian during the 
War of Cambrai, when the fortress was saved from 
destruction only by an obsequious surrender. 

Prior to that, however, — during the later quattro- 
cento, — the castle was occupied, with the consent 
of the Venetian Government, by the powerful condot- 
tiere Tuzio Costanzo, who had gained this recom- 
pense by his services for the Republic, and kept it 
while he lived. Now it remained but the centre of the 

^ Horatio F. Brown, In and Around Venice. 



162 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

modern, enlarged town of twelve thousand inhabitants, 
and the long open areas on its north and east sides 
formed the people's market-place and piazza. Lines of 
dwellings that looked fully as aged as the fortress 
frowned at it across the sunlit spaces, rising upon 
continuous arcades with decrepit, ancient pillars, shad- 
owing diminutive shops that seemed to have slept for 
centuries. In the northeast corner was the only life, 
and there it was over-abundant; for the whole popu- 
lation were evidently gathered there en masse, watch- 
ing a small boy draw lottery numbers from a cage, in 
alternations of breathless interest and surging howls. 

Through this excited crowd my guide led the way 
with considerable difficulty, and immediately ushered 
me into a carriage entrance penetrating the buildings 
upon the piazza's northern flank. On the right of this 
passage, in the rear, was a worn, dirty, stone staircase, 
and on the left a typical Italian kitchen, with its large 
brick hearth for the open fire, and rows of highly 
burnished copper utensils decorating the smoky walls. 

"Ecco!" 'cried the facchino, proudly waving his 
hand, and setting down my bag, "un grande albergo!" 
To judge by his tone the native fondly conceived 
it an hotel of the premier order. — "Where is it.^^" I 
asked, gazing blankly around, while my heart sank 
with a leaden dismay. 

"Here," he responded, again indicating the kitchen, 
"and above," ^ pointing upward; "and this is where 
one eats," — with a flourish of his hand around the 
dirty passage and toward the stableyard behind. I 
began to wish that I had never heard of Castelfranco. 
Not a living soul was to be seen. I got rid of my 
enthusiastic companion with half a lira, and after some 
search unearthed from a closet a little wizened old 
woman, who moved by jerks, with a terrible volubil- 



CASTELFRANCO 163 

ity of which I could hardly catch a word, and whose 
blazing little eyes held the light of a lunatic. I finally 
understood that no room could be had at present, be- 
cause all were occupied by the town gentry in viewing 
the lottery-drawing; nothing whatever could be done 
until that epoch-making event should be terminated. 
After sitting around the kitchen for half an hour, how- 
ever, the yelling outside subsided, the people gradu- 
ally dispersed, and a landlady appeared to conduct 
me to a chamber. It was a huge old room on the 
first-floor front, with a lofty arched ceiling, sparsely 
furnished with an iron bed and washstand, a decayed 
wooden dresser, table, and single chair, — which were 
lost in the shadows. The little old woman, who ap- 
peared to have been permanently assigned to me, tot- 
tered in and out from the adjacent hall, bringing towels 
and water, and chattering without cessation, demand- 
ing what I wanted to eat, where I came from, how 
long I should stay, when I should retire and rise, and 
a hundred other things, — until I shut and locked the 
door upon her in despair. Then she would not allow 
me to rest, — continually returning to bang upon the 
door and scream more questions, and finally station- 
ing herself to babble through the keyhole. The queer- 
est part of all this was, that it was not the acting of a 
complete lunatic, but simply the endeavors of a peas- 
ant, who seldom sees a person of the upper class, to 
render herself exceedingly helpful and agreeable; I 
have often had encounters of this nature in remote 
places, though never another so extreme. 

To get away from her noise I withdrew to the fur- 
ther window, thrusting my head out, leaning over the 
sill, and found myself opposite the northeast corner of 
the castle, with a splendid view down its north and 
east sides. The sun had set, and the upward-stealing 



164 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

shadows were emphasizing the massiveness of the 
great walls and towers, rising from the still darker 
masses of trees and shrubbery along the moat's high, 
sloping, inner bank. The thought came, of the vast 
labor that it must have taken to pile up such a bank 
of earth, — thirty to forty feet in height, and a sixth 
of a mile long on each side of the quadrangle, — seven 
hundred years ago, when they had no implements but 
picks and spades, no powder to blast with, nor steam 
engines to drill or shovel. The chief tower, in the 
centre of the east side, bore a large clock-face of later 
days; and upon its summit an octagonal open lantern 
lifted its columns and pointed cupola against the deep 
blueness of the sky, with its stripes of fleecy gold. 

Behind that very keep, within those walls, had met 
in long-gone days the solemn conclave of Lombardy's 
strongest Ghibelline rulers, — the noble chieftains of 
the Visconti, the Gonzaghi, the Estensi, and the Delia 
Carrara, to cement their solemn federation against the 
pretensions of John of Bohemia. It was on August 6, 
1332. The Emperor had temporarily gone to Avignon, 
to confer with Pope John XXII, leaving his son Charles 
at Parma to act as general viceroy in his absence; and 
the opportunity was seized by some of the leading 
plain-towns to league themselves for mutual support, 
— for "the Ghibelline nobles were afraid lest he might 
engage in a conspiracy with the Pope to crush their 
power."^ It was almost the only occasion through all 
the centuries that those four antagonistic, warring 
families met together in peace and harmony. In my 
fancy I could see that pomp of arms and blazonry, the 
courtyards ringing with the tread of knights and flash- 
ing with their shields and pennons ; — each prince striv- 
ing to impress the others, and, while he greeted them 

^ Oscar Browning, Guelphs and Ghibellines, chap. xii. 



CASTELFRANCO 165 

with honeyed words and ermine robes, wearing under 
the latter a shirt of mail, and watching every move- 
ment for a dagger thrust, every wine-cup for a treach- 
erous poison. 

It was a hundred and fifty years after this that 
Tuzio Costanza acquired the fortress. In 1495, when 
the Venetians had leagued with the other powers to 
drive Charles VIII out of Italy, and the League had 
appointed Francesco Gonzaga its commander-in-chief, 
Tuzio headed his own company under the latter, and 
won such fame by his exploits against the French that 
the Duke of Orleans bestowed upon him the famous 
appellation of "the best lance in Italy." Tuzio's son 
Matteo became a condottiere also, and fought with his 
company for Venice, as his father had done; he was 
in the way of attaining renown, when he was slain at 
Ravenna in 1504, — and the broken-hearted father 
brought home the body to his castle. Matteo was 
buried in the old church of the fortress, under a tomb 
that became celebrated for its beauty; and Giorgione, 
his friend, immortalized his knightly form in color. 

Immediately before my window, upon the sward of 
the fosse's outer bank opposite the corner tower, stood 
a memorial that led my thought to these softer, pleas- 
anter channels. It was a gleaming marble statue, upon 
a high, well-shaped pedestal, of a comely youth clad 
in charming cinquecento costume of rich, embroidered 
doublet and long-hose, with a graceful cloak falling 
from his shoulders, and a jaunty velvet cap upon his 
curls; and in his left hand he held a painter's palette, 
in his right a brush. ^ It was Giorgione himself — the 
great Giorgione; "born halfway between the moun- 
tains and the sea, that young George of Castelfranco 

1 This charming work was executed in 1878, by the Venetian sculptor, 
Benvenuti. 



166 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

— Stout George they called him, George of Georges, 
so goodly a boy he was. Have you ever thought what 
a world his eyes opened on — what a world of mighty 
life — of loveliest life, when he went down, yet so 
young, to the marble city, and became himself as a 
fiery heart to it?"^ 

I know naught in our language besides this splendid 
simile of Ruskin's that so well conveys the immediate, 
powerful effect which the genius of this marvelous 
youth had upon the Venice and the art of the Renais- 
sance. It was in 1477 that he first saw the light in this 
little town, a child by his father's side of the locally 
prominent Barbarelli family, while his mother was a 
peasant from Vedalago; and from the tenderest age 
his whole impressionable and passionate soul devoted 
itself to absorbing the beauty of all existing things, 

— throbbed with it, and radiated it with tongue and 
brush to all about him. His physical personality also 
reflected this love of the beautiful; when he had gone 
to labor at Giovanni Bellini's studio, and grown to 
first manho9d, his commanding figure, noble head, 
and graceful, dignified deportment, quickly drew from 
the Venetians that sobriquet by which he is still known. 
Like the proverbial flashing meteor, as has been well 
said, his star soared above his master's and all others', 
glowed unsurpassably brilliant in the meridian, and as 
quickly perished of its own internal fires. Who that 
knows Giorgio Barbarelli through his works, does not 
love him, — and who that is acquainted with the sad- 
ness of his early fate, does not compassionate it?^ 

"In his works two characteristics prevail, senti- 

^ Tuthill, Precious Thoughts from RusJcin. 

^ He died in 1512 at Venice, at the age of 33, his heart broken — so it 
is said — by the faithless conduct of his inamorata, Cecilia, in secretly 
transferring her affections to Giorgio's pupil, Pietro Luzzo. The remains 
lie near those of his friend Matteo Costanzo, in the Castelfranco cemetery. 



CASTELFRANCO 167 

ment and color, both tinged with his peculiar temper- 
ament; the sentiment is noble but melancholy, and 
the color decided, intense, and glowing. He was the 
first Venetian who cast aside the antiquated con- 
straint of the Bellini school, treated art with freedom, 
and handled his colors in a bold, decided manner. 
The works of Giorgione are amongst the most rare 
and beautiful examples of the Venetian school."^ 
Alas, that they are so very rare; to come upon one 
is like finding a coruscating ruby in a bed of sand. 
Who does not cherish with keen delight the memory 
of that wonderful Concert in the Pitti, with its at- 
mosphere of languorous dreamy eventide through 
which the musicians' strains are stealing! 

Kugler's famous summary is the best: "His paint- 
ings generally have a luminous power and subdued in- 
ternal glow, the sternness of which forms a singular 
contrast to the repose which prevails without; and his 
portraits represent an elevated race of beings capable 
of the noblest and grandest efforts." 

It was the very rareness of these supreme works 
which had brought me to Castelfranco; not that this 
his native town, as one would naturally suppose, con- 
tains any number of them; but because here exists one 
canvas that, in the opinion of many critics, is the great- 
est and most glorious of them all. It hangs in the 
parish church of S. Liberale; — not a portrait, like 
the majority of his works, but a large pietistic tableau, 
of the Madonna enthroned with Saints Liberale and 
Francesco by her side. 

At this point in my meditations a renewed and 
louder shrieking through the keyhole by my crazed 
attendant recalled me with the information that it 
was time to go down and dine. I descended with fore- 

^ Shedd, Famous Painters and Paintings. 



168 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

boding, and was placed at a small table in the dusty 
carriageway, in the company of a number of hatted 
gentlemen, who, as usual, bellowed at each other and 
drank wine until they grew perilously red in the face. 
However, the soup and macaroni were excellent, and 
I "made out" surprisingly well. When it was time to 
retire, my faithful attendant led me to my chamber 
with a lighted candle, and continued her running, 
chattering performance of the afternoon, until I put 
her out and told her to return no more. When she 
had finally disappeared, I recollected that I had no 
drinking-water, and looked for a bell; there was none. 
I shouted, and banged the table in the great shadowy 
hall, but no one came. I descended the staircase, — 
and found the doors at its bottom tightly locked. 
The situation faced me that I was alone in this queer 
old building, and bolted in. 

It was one of the strangest predicaments that my 
travels have ever given me. In those huge gaunt halls, 
so full of shadows and silence, it had a sinister, alarm- 
ing aspect; I knew nothing whatever about this place, 
and all the old tales of travelers robbed in out-of-the- 
way inns began to course through my head. Every 
act of the old woman and the other queer inmates 
assumed a new significance, as I paced up and down 
through the darkness ; because I could obtain no water, 
I immediately acquired a thirst of extraordinary in- 
tensity; I noticed for the first time that the candle 
was old and low, and would soon leave me in an appal- 
ling gloom; finally the thought of a possible fire came 
to me, starting perhaps in some other part of the 
building, when I should be trapped like a mouse, — 
for the windows were twenty feet from the stones 
below. Wrought by all these ideas to desperation — 
I laugh now whenever I think, of it — I took up a 



CASTELFRANCO 169 

heavy chair, again descended the stairs, and battered 
furiously upon the panels of the doors, making a din 
that would have roused the seven sleepers. For a long 
time there was no response; I redoubled my efforts, 
— and at last heard feet approaching, a key turn in 
the lock, and saw a sleepy, round, night-capped face 
thrust in before me, with an expression of comical 
bewilderment that I shall never forget. 

"By the Madonna! what was happening .f* Was the 
house falling down.^^ — Had the spirits gone after the 
signore? — What was the signore doing with that 
chair.f*" — Considerably discomfited and abashed, 
but still angry, I made my complaints as to the ab- 
sence of bell, water, and candle; the woman brought 
me the two latter articles, reclosed the door, and I 
heard the key again turn in the lock. I was obliged to 
return to the upper hall; and then, at a sudden remem- 
brance of all her words, the horrors commenced to 
travel down my back in rapid waves. — "Had the 
spirits gone after the signore!" — Great Heavens! 
Then there were supernatural beings in these dismal 
chambers, that were accustomed now and then to 
"go after" unfortunate visitors! — This was worse 
than before ; — locked alone in an ancient palace, 
haunted by spectres, that visited their wrath upon 
intruders ! 

Of course I do not believe in ghosts, — who does.'* — 
but I am not ashamed to confess that I shivered as 
I looked horror-stricken around the shadowy corners, 
dreading each second to behold some fearful appari- 
tion. I wished now with all my soul that I had never 
heard of Castelfranco. Each dark piece of furniture 
assumed, as my eye fell upon it in the dusk, some 
shapeless, moving form; each step that I cautiously 
made, echoed into some semblance of unearthly noise. 



170 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

I stole to my chamber door, feeling that all about me 
were unseen malevolent beings, reaching toward me 
with their ghostly hands. Then an actual sound that 
was no echo shrilled from the dark end of the hall, — 
a frightful squeak, or gibber, of fiendlike accents, — 
that lifted my hair straight upon end and completed 
my discomfiture. I bounded into the room, slammed 
and bolted the door, and threw off my clothes faster 
than I had ever done in my life, not daring to look 
around; — crawling into bed in a minute, under the 
shelter of the sheets, as good Mr. Pickwick did when 
he had read the autobiography of the madman. 

When I awoke in the morning, with the sunshine 
pouring brightly in, how ludicrous seemed the inci- 
dents of the night — how I laughed as I recalled them. 
And that final uncanny sound, — why, it was naught 
but the squeak of a mouse in the wall ; the ghosts were 
mice, and nothing more. — But, I took care not to 
spend another night in such a prison. 

After an early breakfast I entered the fortress upon 
its northerft side, where a later brick bridge crosses the 
moat, and the lofty wall is broken down for some dis- 
tance. To the west from the bridge, the fosse has at 
this place more than its usual garniture of grassy 
slopes with shrubs and flowers, for hence extends upon 
the outer bank a fine row of giant plane trees, and 
beneath them, a pleasant shady promenade beside the 
silent water. On the evening previous I had walked 
here for a while, and encountered, in the darkness 
pierced only by twinkling caffe-lights across the piazza, 
quite a number of coupled lovers, strolling in signifi- 
cant silence and contiguity. This morning the scene 
was very different, for it was clearly another festa: the 
two lines of buildings fronting the piazza were bril- 
liant with the waving red, white, and green of the 




CASTELFRANCO. MADONNA AND CHILD WITH SAINTS. (GIORGIONE.) 



CASTELFRANCO 171 

national colors; crowds moved about aimlessly, the 
men stiff and awkward in their holiday clothes; and 
now came the town band with a flourish of trumpets, 
pompously marching to the national air, cheered by 
the populace and followed by a long string of men and 
boys. But the dignity of the procession was sadly 
injured by the musicians having no uniforms, and being 
all in shirt-sleeves, with an extraordinary variety of 
soiled and threadbare waistcoats. I could not help 
laughing at their ludicrous appearance, and the per- 
fect solemnity with which their orderless tail mean- 
dered after them. Up and down the long piazzas they 
marched, all that morning, ceaselessly tooting the 
same air, whose tired strains followed me into every 
street. 

The fortress I found to be quartered just like Citta- 
della, by two main thoroughfares crossing at right 
angles in the centre. The one which I now entered ran 
from the northern gateway (utterly destroyed) to the 
church at the south end; and few traces of age were 
visible in the freshly painted stucco buildings that 
confined it closely without arcades. Still narrower 
side ways, like alleys, diverged occasionally between 
brick walls more clearly aged and dilapidated. On the 
left I passed the town theatre, which — as usual with 
every Italian borough, however small — was large 
and carefully ornate, with great columns supporting 
a classic portico. Shortly beyond was the intersection 
of the east and west avenue, presenting quite a differ- 
ent aspect because of the huge, towered gateways 
overlooking it at the ends; upon this also, just to the 
left, stood the Municipio, — a simple but well-designed 
Kenaissance structure, arcaded on the ground story. 

I continued to S. Liberale, whose lofty fagade look- 
ing down the street was likewise of modern Renais- 



172 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

sance design; it was exceptionally light in color, being 
of painted stucco, and imitated a Doric temple, with 
four enormous half-columns supporting a cornice and 
pediment of that order. Statues crowned the flat gable, 
and adorned the side parapets of the entrance court; 
while behind on the right soared the old, dark, central 
tower of the southern wall, with battlements topping 
its added belfry. That was the original, early campa- 
nile, but this was not the original church, for which 
Giorgione painted his altar-piece, — in which he was 
buried, and to which Tuzio Costanzo brought the body 
of his warrior-son ; that structure had been razed, and 
this late, pretentious edifice reared in its place, while 
the tombs of the two friends were removed to the local 
cemetery. 

I found the single doorway open, and lifting the 
heavy leathern curtain, passed within. A beautiful, 
spacious nave of Renaissance design greeted me, with 
a lofty, arched roof, an elevated choir, backed by a 
rounded apse, and similar apses at the ends of the. 
short transept; the lower aisles were divided off by 
heavy piers, and arches springing from Ionic half- 
columns at their sides, over which ran a handsome 
block cornice; while above the intersection of nave 
and transept rose a majestic dome. All was in glisten- 
ing white, except the accentuating brown trimmings 
on the capitals, mouldings, and entablature. No paint- 
ings of merit were in the church proper, but I found 
them in the sacristy, to the left of the choir; its walls 
were covered with pictures, forming the only public 
collection in Castelfranco. 

Among them were several by Paolo Veronese, fres- 
coes brought hither from the nearby Villa Soragna: 
two female figures representing Justice and Temper- 
ance, over the doors, — both graceful, well-modeled. 



CASTELFRANCO 173 

and beautifully clothed, and a ceiling-piece represent- 
ing Fame blowing her trumpet, with old Father Time, 
wearing an hour-glass for a hat. Besides these was 
a canvas, in the rear passage, a lovely Marriage of St. 
Catherine in that master's best style, faded indeed as 
to colors, but exceedingly well-composed, dignified, and 
expressive. Here was also a Circumcision by Palma 
Giovane (signed, 1610), with individually charming 
figures of soft, well-moulded flesh-work, and of a fine, 
rich tone; but — as so often with him — the figures 
were too numerous, crowded, and unrestful. 

The said rear passage led me to the space behind 
the high altar, which is kept carefully locked and the 
key intrusted to one certain man only, who had to be 
sent for to open the door. There was good reason for 
such care, for there, alone upon the apse-w^all, glis- 
tened that treasure of treasures beyond all price, — 
Giorgione's pala. The Madonna appears seated upon 
a marble throne, which is taller than the heads of the 
two standing saints, — its lower base of red marble, with 
a medallion of the Costanzi arms in its centre, its 
pedestal of glittering Carrara, draped in the middle 
with a falling damask rug of exceeding beauty. The 
throne itself is of simplest possible design, relieved 
only by a striped, grass-colored carpet under the Ma- 
donna's foot, and a cloth of red-and-gold, flow^ering 
pattern at her back. The long-lashed eyes of her pure, 
exquisite face are downward cast, her left hand rest- 
ing upon the rectangular marble arm of the seat, her 
right hand and knee holding the sacred Infant, who 
looks towards S. Liberale. Nothing could be more 
simple also than the Madonna's garb, — the loose, 
open-necked bodice of velvet-green, the full-draped, 
unadorned robe of softest rose, and the white linen 
kerchief upon her head. 



174 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Back of the throne there runs across the stage at 
man's height a dark-carmine screen, which sets forth 
well the two forms before it of monk and warrior, and 
reveals behind it a distant landscape of indescribable 
charm, — verdurous groves and castellated hill, 
spreading vale and dim blue mountains crowned by 
towered cities, all swathed in heavy, shimmering air. 
But that to which the eye turns from the beauteous 
Madonna, is the knightly, youthful form of S. Libe- 
rale: clad cap-a-pie in glittering mail he stands, even 
to helmet, gusset, and genouilliere, — a short-sword at 
his side, in one hand a staff whose pennon droops 
above his head; a manly, noble, martial figure, with the 
sunlight glistening upon the polished facets of the 
armor, — yet gracious in his bearing, and gentle in the 
boyish face that looks with quiet eyes from the un- 
visored casque. These were the face and form, tradi- 
tion tells us, of Matteo Costanzo; and the armor is 
•that very mail which lies carved upon Matteo's mar- 
ble figure on his tomb. Once besides this his friend 
Giorgio portrayed him, in that identical S. Liberale 
which was bequeathed by Samuel Rogers to the Brit- 
ish National Museum, and which was the study-piece 
for this. 

Over the whole picture, arranged with such happy 
symmetry and balance, disposed with such repose and 
gracefulness, radiates that magical glow of gold and 
crimson intermixed that seems to pour forth from some 
hidden fiery interior, — that lifts the simple scene and 
quiet figures into a glimpse of heavenly glory, and 
makes us long for such beatitude. Well indeed may 
the greatest of critics pronounce, that "foremost 
among the productions acknowledged by successive 
generations as true Giorgiones, we should place the 
altarpiece — in the Church of Castelfranco."'^ 

^ Crowe and Cavalcaselle. 



CASTELFRANCO 175 

When I left the church, it was to stroll thoughtfully 
down to the fortress's eastern gate, with the lofty 
clock- tower above it; and there, as I traversed its 
tunnel-like entrance, upon the outer keystone of the 
central arch my wandering eyes lighted upon a little 
painting of surprising beauty, that to me as certainly 
bore the marks of Giorgione as did the masterpiece I 
had left. The shadows that would hide it from most 
passers-by have preserved its lovely coloring with 
exceptional vigor. It is a simple fresco of the Madonna 
and Child, exquisite in the lines and moulding of the 
forms, as well as the grace of the attitudes; and the 
fair-haired child is truly one of the few loveliest that 
I have ever seen. I made inquiries as to its authorship, 
but nothing is known with certainty. 

The piazza without this gate is used for cattle fairs 
on Fridays, — when it must be a curious sight to see 
it packed with those hundreds of white and pearly 
oxen, in row after row, to the confining arcades. At 
its southeast corner I found a house with fairly well- 
preserved, Late-Renaissance frescoes on its fagade, 
amusing in design; in one of them was Hercules, slay- 
ing the lion, — in another, strangling in his arms a 
rather laughable, kicking Antaeus. Three other dwell- 
ings of the town, which a guide is necessary to point 
out, are of some interest: one of them the ancient 
ruinous residence of the Costanzi, in the Vicolo del 
Paradiso (what should we think of an Anglo-Saxon 
street labeled the Heavenly Way?), distinguished now 
by nothing particular except the family escutcheon 
in the gable toward the court; another being the 
house in which Giorgione was born, — although of 
questioned authenticity. The third is the house where 
the master customarily stayed when revisiting the 
city; it is located near the church, upon the same 



176 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

piazza, — as I afterwards found; — a plain stuccoed 
building, much altered from the pristine plan, but still 
showing traces of its illustrious occupant in the re- 
mains of his frescoes upon the ceiling of the former 
hall. These represent every sort of instrument, mus- 
ical and otherwise, amidst an extraordinary' assem- 
blage of human heads and skulls, masks, helmets, 
shields, gorgons, books, easels, hour-glasses, etc., all 
of which seem to have been sketched in a spirit of 
amusement, yet with a clear fertility of sprightly 
fancy, and an undeniable power of execution and 
decorativeness ; — qualities which confirm our belief 
in the correctness of their attribution to Barbarelli, 
whose spirit was ever gay in those days when he 
lingered here amidst a few chosen disciples.^ 

^ Amongst those pupils for a time was Pordenone, who had followed 
Giorgione from the studio of Bellini, eager to acquire the mastery of these 
wondrous new developments, which — he could well see — would raise 
painting to its meridian. This it was which made him the great master 
that he became. 



CHAPTER VI 

TREVISO AND THE VILLA GIACOMELLI 

Fair Italy! 
Thou art the garden of the world, the home 
Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree. 
Even in thy deserts, what is like to thee? 
Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste 
More rich than other climes' fertility; 
Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced 
With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced. 

— LoED Byhon. 

Twenty miles north of Venice, halfway between the 
Alps and the lagoons, sits the ancient city known to 
the Romans as Tarvisium, and to the modern Italians 
as Treviso, which formerly guarded the great highway 
from the Serene Republic to the north, as Padua 
guarded that to the west. When Titian made one of 
his frequent journeys to the Dolomites, to the high 
Cadore country and picturesque Pieve where he was 
born, he would follow this highway of all the centuries, 
— from the shore of the Lagoon, or Mestre, by horse- 
back to Treviso, where he lay overnight ; then across 
the wide bed of the Piave to Conegliano at the foot of 
the hills, and Serravalle at the head of its ascending 
vale; whence the pass of the Col Vicentin led the tide 
of travel by a short cut over the mountains, to Belluno 
and the upper valley of the Piave. From Belluno the 
artist had another long day's ride up that magnificent 
defile to the place of his nativity and boyhood, perched 
upon its castled hill far above the joining waters of 
the Piave and the Boite, — where the signory and the 
population were wont to receive their illustrious fellow- 



178 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

citizen with joyous eclat. From Pieve the countless 
travelers for German lands pressed on by either of the 
three excellent passes leading to the valley of the Drau 
and the Tyrol. 

That which conduced to Treviso's ancient import- 
ance, even more than this route, was her location upon 
the greatest of all lines of communication, — that over 
the Julian Alps to the northeast: the land route from 
Italy to Dalmatia, Hungary, and the Orient, — the 
way by which those swarms of barbaric invaders 
poured into the plain of Lombardy. For the various 
passes united at Udine, and led westward by one high- 
way, to join the northern road at Conegliano, Treviso 
was early made a Roman Municipium, and, legend 
has it, by Julius Csesar himself. It suffered greatly 
from the barbarian invasions and sank into obscurity ; 
to rise again in the twelfth century as the dominant 
town of all this section of the plain, in which there was 
no other large place as far as the confines of Udine. 
For a glorious time the little republic flourished, 
maintained* its independence, and fought with Padua 
on the south; but it was in this beautiful, rich terri- 
tory, well watered by swift streams, — known as the 
Trevisan Marches, — that Ezzelino attained his first 
successes as a conqueror; he seized Treviso at the be- 
ginning of his career, and his brother Alberic long 
governed her with tyrannous power. ^ After Ezzelino's 
death in 1259, the little city fell before the Carrara, 
was later captured by Can Grande della Scala, — who 

1 Here it was that Alberico, angered by the seizure of his daughter 
Adelisa and her husband Rinaldo d'Este, who were taken as hostages by 
Frederick II, shut himself up in 1239, imprisoning all the city officials 
and defying the Emperor's power. In consequence whereof the luckless 
Trevisans had to endure a long and frightful siege from the Paduans and 
other imperialists, which ended in Alberico's extinction, and their annexa- 
tion for a time to the Paduan domains. 



TREVISO 179 

died here, at the height of his fame, in 1329, — and 
finally was taken by the intervening Venetians, in 
1339, when Treviso and her immediate territory — 
including Castelfranco, Conegliano, and other smaller 
places — formed the first mainland possessions of the 
Republic, upon the peninsula.^ 

In 1356, Treviso was already so attached to her 
sovereign as to endure without flinching a long and 
terrible siege from Lewis the Hungarian; in 1380, she 
faced another from Francesco Carrara; and she con- 
tinued to bear manfully the attacks dealt against the 
Mistress of the Sea throughout all the wars of those cen- 
turies, standing by her unto the coming of Napoleon. 
From 1813 onwards Treviso suffered with her sister- 
towns the odious domination of the Austrian; but in 
the revolution of 1848 she played an heroic part, endur- 
ing a siege and bombardment without proper rneans of 
defense, until forced to yield by overwhelming power, 
After the final victory of 1866, her plebiscite for union 
with the Kingdom of Italy was noteworthy for the fact 
that out of 6990 votes cast not one was against the 
proposition. 

The city is located at the confluence of the small 
rivers Sile and Botteniga; Dante lingered in his wan- 
derings at their place of junction, struck by the beauty 
of the swift, tree-shaded streams, which he mentioned 
in the Paradiso (ix, 43) — the latter under the appella- 
tion of Cagnan. In the history of art, Treviso has been 
of little importance, developing no school of merit like 
her sister-towns, no single artist of high rank; nor did 
she turn herself in Renaissance days to much cultiva- 

1 This was a part of the despoliation of the weak Mastino II della Scala, 
Can Grande's successor, which was worked in concert by the Venetians, 
the Visconti, and the Delia Carrara; and which ultimately reduced the 
huge Scala kingdom to naught but the adjacent cities of Verona and 
Vicenza. 



180 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

tion of painting or architecture. Her most interesting 
buildings come down to us from the earher times of 
Romanesque and Gothic designs; and her indulgence 
in the brush was mainly confined to the coloring of 
facades, — in which respect she "furnishes the most 
modern specimens of house decoration, giving proof 
of a deep study of the great Mantegnesque examples." ^ 

At the end of the trecento the little known but highly 
interesting Tommaso da Modena came here to fill 
the churches and monasteries with his frescoes; but 
the Trevisans poorly followed his excellent example 
and influence, developing only second- and third-rate 
artists like Dario, Pietro Pennachi, and the latter's 
son Girolamo. This Girolamo da Trevlso was the best 
of the lot, — having benefited by the influence of 
Squarcione and his Paduan school, — and did more 
than any of the others to beautify his town.^ But 
Treviso could give birth to great artists if she could 
not teach them ; to the studios of Venice she sent that 
illustrious trio, Rocco Marconi, Lorenzo Lotto, and 
Paris Bordone, — of whom, however, but very few 
specimens remain in their native place. 

The plan of Treviso shows an oblong quadrangle, 
whose east and west diameter is nearly twice the 
length of the north and south ; and is delimited still 
by its huge Renaissance brick walls and moat. The 
Botteniga strikes it at the centre of the northern side, 
dividing forthwith into a half-dozen branches, two 
of which follow the moat to right and left and supply 
its water, the others of which flow through the city, 
marking out as they do so the limits of the original 

^ Crowe and Cavalcaselle. 

^ Pennachi was an unimportant pupil of Carpaccio. Girolamo, of more 
talent, became finally one of the chief engineers of the English King, Henry 
VIII, for whom he built various structures and fortresses, and was slain 
while prosecuting for him the siege of Boulogne. 



TREVISO 181 

smaller town, and turning many mill-wheels with their 
swift impetus. 

The Sile, coming from the west, enters the moat at 
the southwest corner and courses broadly along it to 
the southeastern angle, dividing, for half the distance, 
into two arms that inclose a long, narrow island at the 
centre of the southern side, — the right-hand arm 
being the city fosse, the left-hand and broader arm 
flowing between tree-shaded quays. Into this last 
empty the different branches of the Botteniga, its 
main branch joining towards the island's eastern end. 
In the very centre of the town lies appropriately its 
chief piazza — "Dei Signori," — from which the prin- 
cipal thoroughfare, under the names of Via Venti Set- 
tembre and Via Vittorio Emanuele, runs windingly 
down, across the island, to the main gate at the middle 
of the southern wall. 

Just without this gate — the Barriera Vittorio 
Emanuele — stands the railroad station; and here I 
debarked late in the afternoon, after an uneventful 
three-quarter-hour's run from Castelfranco, hoping 
that in this place of thirty-five thousand inhabitants I 
should find a comfortable, modernized hotel. Across 
the sunny piazza I saw the flowing moat, and behind it 
the great, grim, brick walls of the cinquecento, masked 
on the right hand by the foliage of a charming little 
park extending eastward along the stream; through 
its cool shade meandered gravelled paths, attended 
by flower-beds, and upon its benches sat many loung- 
ers, watching a dozen stately swans sporting in the 
water under the shadows of the battlements. 

I climbed into the 'bus of the hotel to which I had 
been recommended at Vicenza, — endowed with that 
common but pleasing name of Stella d' Oro (Golden 
Star) , — and rattled away over the cobbles, through 



182 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the Barrier, over a long piazza crossing the island, and 
a bridge at its end across the main arm of the Sile. 
Picturesque old houses backed upon the water's north- 
ern bank, and a pleasant, shady quay adorned the 
southern. Thence the Via Vittorio Emanuele took 
us winding between ancient houses, freshened by mod- 
ern paint and plaster, filled with trim little shops, until 
at an eastward bend we crossed the first arm of the 
Botteniga — a narrow, dark, dirty stream between 
aged walls, that once formed here the moat of the 
primal town; and immediately beyond it we drew up 
before an imposing, handsome building occupying a 
block of its own, having a garden on the side toward 
the water. It was the hotel; and very much aston- 
ished and pleased was I to find such a one in a little 
town of this size, seldom visited by foreigners. They 
gave me an attractive, newly furnished room over the 
garden, where I was nightly lulled to sleep by the 
rhythmical murmur of the current; and the table, 
— which, like the other towns, was entirely a la 
carte — prcJved of equal excellence. Thus can one live 
in provincial Italy on the fat of the land, at a price 
of no more than eight to nine francs per day. 

After dinner, under the trees in the garden, illum- 
ined by colored lanterns, I strolled northeastward up 
the Via Venti Settembre — how much Italians ever 
make of that occupation of Rome! — to the Piazza dei 
Signori. The dark battlemented form of the four- 
teenth century Prefettura loomed up on its eastern 
side, with caffe lights shining from its heavy arcades; 
other caffes illumined the nearer side of the area, and 
all of them had spread their crowd of little tables far 
out upon the flagged pavement, occupying half the 
open space. Seated at them, and moving through them 
with visiting gossip, were throngs of well-dressed peo- 



TREVISO 183 

pie, — the aristocracy of Treviso, taking their evening 
outing. Other throngs less aristocratic strolled up and 
down in the space between the phalanxes of tables, 
and massed themselves strongly at the piazza's south- 
ern end. Here there rose another arcaded building, of 
Renaissance lines, with lofty arches, — the palace of 
the governmental telegraph department, occupied also 
by the city fire department, and the museum of paint- 
ings. Before this I now discerned a band-stand erected, 
filled with ornate regimental musicians, about to com- 
mence the evening concert. I took a seat at a table, 
and enjoyed my caje noir, watching the people and 
listening to the music. 

The band played at intervals selections — as usual 
— from the German and Italian operas ; it is always 
a wonder to me what excellent instrumentalists are 
found, and developed, amongst the youths of every 
Italian regiment. The people, well though not smartly 
dressed, the women in styles less fashionable than in 
the larger cities, sipped their coffee and liqueurs and 
innocuous syrups, clearly with more enjoyment in their 
conversation than in the drinks, as is the national way. 
I ascertained that these concerts occurred upon tv/o 
or three evenings a week, as in all garrison towns; but 
these good gossiping Trevisans would be found here 
every night. They sat in family parties about the tiny 
tables, talking and laughing with incessant volubility, 
sometimes all at once; while those gentlemen who 
evidently conceived themselves especially popular or 
witty, moved from group to group with elaborate salu- 
tations and smiling quips. Villari has so succinctly 
expressed this phase of Italian life that I can do no 
better than repeat his words : — 

"The streets and cafes are places of rendezvous for 
all classes. The idle section of the jeunesse doree pass 



184 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

more than half the day lounging about the main streets, 
chattering and gossiping. Even men of business and 
hard-working professional men prefer to meet in the 
street or at some cafe to discuss their affairs and see 
their friends, rather than in their own homes. Differ- 
ent cafes are frequented by different classes. One is 
the resort of the officers, another that of university 
professors, another of students, another of lawyers. 
The ordinary cafe is at best a somewhat dismal resort; 
it is dusty, stuffy, and uncomfortable; the chairs are 
apt to collapse, the sofas are dingy, and cleanliness is 
not remarkable."^ To this should be added that in a 
small place like Treviso the central piazza, rather than 
the streets, is the general rendezvous; it is the drawing- 
room of a large and very friendly household, whose 
members are more at home in it than in the chambers 
where they reside; to use the old metaphor, it is the 
true heart of the city, where beats its pulse, and form 
its feelings; and its life pours forth through all the 
arteries, to flow back like the tide. 

When I "returned to this piazza next morning, the 
dim mass of the Prefettura had resolved itself into a 
structure of most interesting details: the piazza run- 
ning from northwest to southeast, the palace occupies 
three quarters of its northeastern flank, — a huge, 
three-storied edifice of yellowish brick, with two great, 
projecting wings inclosing a good section of the square. 
It comes from Romanesque days, having been first 
constructed in 1184, and much rebuilt in the past cen- 
tury. The whole ground story of the right wing is a 
large open loggia, half -filled by the tables of a caffe; 
and along the first story of the main body and the 
left wing, runs a round-arched brick arcade, upon 
glistening, white stone pillars. 

* Luigi Villari, Italian Life in Town and Country. • 



TREVISO 185 

But its chief beauty lies in the long series of splen- 
did triple Romanesque windows upon the second 
story, carefully restored; the three arches of each 
being adorned with terra-cotta labels over their brick 
quoins, and supported by two pairs of coupled shafts 
of polished marble, — all recessed within a large arch 
outlined in terra-cotta placques. Other Romanesque 
windows adorn the third story of the main body", — 
dainty little double lights, each with a single pair of 
coupled shafts, one behind the other; while over them 
runs a Romanesque brick cornice, surmounted by 
Ghibelline battlements, — which continue along the 
right wing. Soaring over the whole, from the rear of 
the central structure, is the majestic municipal tower, 
its lofty stuccoed face unbroken save by the clock and 
two tiny embrasures, its deep-arched belfry frowning 
war-like from its crenellations. Altogether, this is one 
of the few most interesting and characteristic public 
buildings erected in North Italy during the era of the 
municipal republics. 

I looked at the marble tablets covering the pillars of 
the right wing toward the inclosed space, and found 
them to be the town's memorials to the heroes of the 
Risorgimento. On the other side of this wing is a 
superb outer stairway, with marble balustrade, rising 
upon arches to a Gothic doorway in the second story; 
and in the centre of the adjacent section of the piazza 
stands a marble statue of Independence, as a female 
in classic garb leaning upon a battleflag-standard and 
holding a wreath of laurel. 

I traversed a passage through the middle of the 
palace, to another, smaller piazza in its rear, upon 
which it looks with a broad arcade sustained by slim 
columns rising from a parapet; under this arcade open 
the doors of two small churches, side by side, — S. 



186 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Vito and S. Lucia, — dating from the fifteenth cen- 
tury. The latter bore formerly the curious name of the 
Madonna of the Prisons, — which used to be adjacent ; 
in it condemned prisoners received the last rites of the 
Church before being executed in the piazza without, 
and their poor mutilated bodies were then interred in 
the vaults. Neither of the edifices contains anything 
rem'arkable, — beyond a fair canvas by Titian's 
nephew, Marco Vecellio, over the high-altar of S. Vito. 

Immediately next to them, however, under the 
same palatial roof, are the rooms of the local Monte di 
Pieta, in one of which hangs a very unusual painting, 
generally ascribed to Giorgione; an attendant showed 
it to me, in a sort of council chamber on the first floor. 
It represents the dead form of our Lord, nude but for 
a loincloth, sitting upon the lid of his sarcophagus 
with one leg inside the latter and one outside, leaning 
backward against some winged 'putti who are pushing 
and pulling to accomplish the interment; a ghastly 
sounding subject, and the picture is even more brutal 
than it sounds, — the Christ's figure being disagree- 
ably muscular, in hardened bunches, the skin of deadly 
leaden hue, the aspect of the face horrifying; and it is 
so violently foreshortened that, interesting as it is to 
artists, it must strike the average beholder unpleas- 
antly. It is powerful and realistic, — that cannot be 
denied, — and the moulding of the flesh is of most 
exceptional solidity; also the 'putti, taken separately, 
are very graceful, charming little forms, while the 
toning and coloring are of that deep gorgeousness 
peculiar to Barbarelli. 

Yet it did not seem to me to be that master's work. 
"If in all [his] canvases we have examined, the com- 
mendable features are quiet movement, just propor- 
tion and gentle shape, here we are bound to admire the 



TREVISO 187 

colossal torso and herculean limbs of a giant, the mus- 
cular strength and fleshy growth of angels aping juv- 
enile athletes, and a tendency to depict strong action 
or equally strong foreshortening. In the dashing fresco 
which Pordenone finished at San Niccolo of Treviso 
... we observe the same neglect of drawing, the same 
display of flesh and muscle, and similar contractions 
of extremities."^ It is really, therefore, with small 
room for doubt, one of Pordenone's works done soon 
after his graduation from Giorgione's teaching; the 
products of which period have ever since been mis- 
taken for the master's. 

From the northwest side of the Piazza dei Signori 
the chief thoroughfare continues in that direction 
under the name of Via Calmaggiore. Starting now up 
this, my eyes rested first upon the old Renaissance 
palace to the right, at the corner of street and piazza, 
whose fagade is covered with rustica up to the fourth 
story, all of the same heaviness, — a rather extraor- 
dinary design. The effect is bad, and is accentuated 
by the lack of any cornice. This is really the left wing 
of the Prefettura; its side towards the piazza bears a 
lower continuation of the arcades, on marble pillars, 
and three upper rows of simple oblong windows di- 
vided by graduated marble pilasters, — from Doric 
on the first floor to Corinthian on the third. Adjacent 
to this upon the street is a fagade more quaint and 
interesting, — the Casa Alessandrini, likewise of cm- 
quecento design; it rises upon an arcade of two wide 
arches only, and terminates in a simple wooden roof, 
but is adorned with two beautiful Renaissance bal- 
conies; and all over the stucco of the three stories are 
the remains of excellent frescoes executed by the 
cinquecentist Pozzasaretto, — a number of the large 

^ Crowe and Cavalcaselle, ii, 3. 



188 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

figures being clearly preserved, in that queer dark pink 
or roseate tint of flesh used upon house-fronts. 

The way continued, narrow and shadowy between 
heavy arcades on both sides, picturesque with its old 
fagades of every style and epoch, alive under the colon- 
nades with bright, varied little shops and throngs of 
people. Crumbling Romanesque dwellings frowned 
down, dwellings with details of Gothic days, dwellings 
of the Renaissance age, — adorned with columns, or 
handsome window frames only, or marble balconies, or 
large fragmentary frescoes of pink and carmine hues. 
Finally the apse and side of a great church loomed 
upon my left, with a huge unfinished campanile of 
massive stones, so ponderous as to confirm without 
words the story that the Trevisans once started to 
build a tower higher than that of any other city, and 
had to relinquish the attempt as beyond their means. 
These were the campanile and body of the Duomo. I 
followed a diverging way between the two, passing on 
the right, adjacent to the former, an aged, moulder- 
ing houscwith curious, heavily barred windows and 
an outside staircase, and next to this again, the an- 
cient Baptistery, — a tumbledown brick structure with 
Romanesque mouldings ; then I emerged upon the ex- 
tensive piazza over which the Cathedral faces north- 
westward. 

This Piazza del Duomo is fully a hundred and fifty 
yards long from southwest to northeast, and half as 
broad. It is gloriously dominated and brightened by 
the Duomo's mighty facade, with its six huge Ionic 
columns rising upon their lofty flight of steps, — a 
most successful example of modern classicism, having 
been added in the last century to the original edifice 
of the twelfth and fifteenth.^ To right of it stretches 

^ It is mostly a Renaissance structure, Jhaving been entirely remodeled 



TREVISO 189 

the long Vescovado, or Bishop's Palace, of Late- 
Renaissance design, with an elaborate columned en- 
trance and arabesque frescoes. Its right wing, front- 
ing the piazza on the southwest, is an older structure 
of two stories only, having a whole architectural 
scheme painted on its flat stuccoed wall, — pilasters, 
rustica, cornice, ornamental panels, string-course, 
niches containing vases, frames to the windows, and 
even a frescoed balustrade across the top. I began to 
think the very windows must be painted too. 

Across the sunny open space, diagonally opposite 
the Cathedral and behind a row of shade trees, rises 
the Tribunale, or court-house, — a fine, large, modern 
building. On the northeast side is one of Treviso's 
most interesting house-fronts, dating from Renaissance 
days, with various pretty details, including a four- 
windowed loggia with openwork marble panels; and 
above the loggia its whole wall is frescoed in once rich, 
cinquecento designs of fertile fancy, — among them 
mermaids sporting in a sea, and at the very top a 
curious checkerboard effect in red and white. 

I mounted the high steps of the Duomo and entered, 
finding myself in a broad, vaulted nave without tran- 
septs, crowned by three successive domes, — the sec- 
ond over the choir, and third over the retro-choir; at 
the sides were single, lower aisles, flanked by very 
shallow chapels. The spacious structure was of good 
Renaissance lines, simple but well-proportioned, and 
majestic in effect, — almost the only architectural 
decoration being the rosettes upon the soffits of the 
arches. The stuccoed pillars were painted light-brown, 
likewise all the trimmings, leaving in glistening white 

on the earlier foundations by Pietro Lombardo, in 1485-1505; and the 
majestic classic interior is one of the Lombardi's best titles to fame. The 
red marble lions of the portico are relics of the medieval church. 



190 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the side walls and arches, the sections of the vaulting, 
and illumined domes. A handsome tesselated pave- 
ment of red and white marbles completed the scene. 

But there were masterpieces here also; and I com- 
menced the round, — noticing immediately upon the 
first altar to the right a pleasing old canvas of Madonna 
and Saints, of rich tone, good drawing, and pious atmo- 
sphere, holding a delightful little girl-angel upon the 
step of the throne, who with a plaintive air crushes 
some flowers to her bared bosom. I was told that the 
author was unknown. In the second chapel I saw Bor- 
done's Adoration of the Shepherds, with excellently 
modeled, expressive figures, in a weird landscape of 
hills and ruined temple, and over all a heavy, shad- 
owy air-effect, in that master's peculiar, rich, brown 
tone. Here against the second pillar was also a relief 
of the Lombardi, representing the Visitation, — a beau- 
tiful thing, with an expression in Elizabeth's face very 
deep and wonderful for stone. 

But in the chapel to the right of the choir I came 
upon the gem of the whole place, and of Treviso, — 
Titian's Annunciation : the Madonna is kneeling upon 
a checkered marble floor, toward the spectator, but 
with her lovely, pensive face turned over the left 
shoulder to greet the angel; the latter, apparently a 
girl-child of twelve, has just alighted with outspread 
wings, bearing the lily in her left hand and raising the 
right hand in blessing; behind her stretches darkly 
afar a tempestuous scene of rugged mountains and 
rolling clouds, through which bursts from heaven a 
stream of light, following the holy messenger. This 
is very grand, and would be entirely so but for the 
presence of one contrasting, even laughable figure: it 
is a little, wizened old man, wrapped in a cloak and 
hood, crouching and peering round the rear corner of 



TREVISO 191 

the marble wall upon the left, — of course, the donor, 
but a more ridiculous donor never obtruded himself 
upon holy personages. 

A painted terra-cotta bust of this wealthy Trevisan, 
Broccardo Malchiostro, — who provided the money 
for the building and adornment of the chapel, and 
after whom it is therefore named, — stands at one 
side; it is of about the same date, 1520, as the pict- 
ure which he procured from Titian. At the same time 
he induced Pordenone to aid in the decoration; who 
thereupon, with the assistance of his chief pupil, 
Pomponio Amalteo, placed a series of frescoes upon 
the walls and cupola, — the Salutation and the 
Adoration of the Magi, below, and a heavenly vision 
of the Eternal Father surrounded by angels, overhead. 
Though formerly, and doubtless justly, considered of 
great worth, these have been so damaged during the 
centuries that they now attract little notice. — 
Near by, on the left wall of the antechapel, is a fres- 
coed Madonna of 1487, — a specimen of the work of 
Girolamo da Treviso. 

Just off this chapel is the sacristy, in which I was 
shown another canvas by Bordone and a picture of the 
original, Gothic Duomo. In the handsome Cappella 
del Sagramento, to the left of the choir, constructed 
by Lorenzo and Battista Bregni, the altar consists of 
an elegant tabernacle of marble, — a cinquecento monu- 
ment to Bishop Zanotti, covered with small bronze 
figures of saints and putti, and adorned, in front, with 
bronze plates bearing New Testament scenes in relief. 
By some this masterpiece is said to be the work of the 
Lombardi; by others, of the brothers Bregni.^ To the 

^ According to Mr. Perkins (in his Italian Sculptors) this was unques- 
tionably done by Pietro Lombardi. "The ornamental marblework upon 
the tomb," he says, "would be alone sufficient to establish the sculptor's 



192 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

right of it are two niches in the wall, containing angels 
by Sansovino. 

In the left aisle, third chapel, I found the church's 
third treasure, a once delightfully colored group of 
three saints and a donor, by Bissolo,^ graceful, quiet, 
and softly, charmingly pietistic. In the second chapel 
was still another Bordone, — S. Lorenzo with four 
other saints, of fine, warm, dark tone and atmosphere, 
and considerable attractiveness. The first chapel held 
a very excellent modern work, of St. Francis raising 
the dead. 

Leaving the Duomo, I strolled away down the con- 
tinuation of Via Calmaggiore, known as Via Canova; 
and found what I was seeking a few paces on the right, 
— the house of Giuseppe Olivi. This was the patriot 
who, being podestd of Treviso when the rising of 1848 
broke out, called all the people together here before 
his dwelling, and addressing them amidst intense ex- 
citement, proclaimed the end of the Austrian domin- 
ion; a provisional government was immediately 
formed, of which Olivi was elected president; and with 
much wisdom he governed the town, defending it 
bravely against the Austrian bombardment and attacks 
until they succumbed to superior numbers. The house 
was a dainty, but not remarkable. Renaissance struc- 
ture, with a long balcony across the upper story and a 
tablet to the patriot's memory; as I gazed at the bal- 
cony, the figures that stood upon it on that memorable 
day seemed to live again, and the street to surge with 

reputation. Its most remarkable feature is an exquisite sculptured 
frieze, which seems to have been worked out with a needle rather than 
with a chisel, — finely and delicately as it is wrought." 

1 Francesco Bissolo was a native of Treviso, who studied his art under 
Giovanni Bellini, but soon threw off all the constraints of the Bellini man- 
ner, developing a strong individual style, of much beauty in the forms and 
coloring. 



TREVISO 193 

that wildly excited multitude, till I could begin to real- 
ize the passions of the time. 

Returning to the piazza, I looked back down Via 
Calmaggiore at the picture which was made by its old 
houses opposite the Baptistery, — dwellings from the 
earliest medieval times, such as are still found in Tre- 
viso by the dozen, with first floors projecting widely 
over the walk on massive beams ; and from one of their 
little casements leaned a figure belonging to the same 
epoch, — a maiden in quaint bodice of flaring red, with 
a crimson cap upon her ebon hair. 

There are two interesting walks to be taken from 
this piazza, and as I gazed I debated them in mind, 
ending by taking the Via Cornarotta which leads 
northeast from the side of the frescoed house. It 
proved a narrow, quaint way, with an out-of-the- 
world, forgotten air, shadowed by old crumbling pal- 
aces that looked deserted. Two of these were of at- 
tractive Renaissance lines; another had a second story 
projecting far over the street, countless years showing 
in every beam. 

In about two hundred yards I came to the Muni- 
cipio, at the angle of a cross-street, — a good modern 
building, but strangely located, in this quiet quarter. 
Next it was the most curious old dwelling yet discov- 
ered, with ground-floor windows of little, heavily barred 
slits, like a prison; and opposite this were more houses 
with the ancient projecting floors. Southward this 
Via del Municipio would lead me directly to the Pre- 
fettura; but I turned northward upon it, across the 
long, spacious Piazza dei Fillipini (wherever got they 
that name. 5^) to the ramparts of the city, looming 
mighty now before me.^ Below the great embankment 

^ These were constructed near the end of the quattrocento by the great 
Veronese architect, Fra Giocondo; and earned their fame by resisting many 
a fierce assault and bombarding siege. 



194 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ran a street, the Via delle Mura, outlining its massive 
bulk indefinitely to west and east; by a path I mounted 
to its broad top, planted now with rows of shade trees, 
under which ran the graveled promenade that is the 
principal walk of the modern citizens. The reason for 
its popularity was evident at once; for over the brick 
parapet I saw the stupendous Alps soaring near at 
hand, like a gigantic, precipitous, and serrated wall — 
rising here quickly to far elevations with few interpos- 
ing foothills; over the shoulders of the foremost were 
thrust glittering snow-peaks, and to the foot of the 
rocky wall swept the fertile plain, beautiful with woods 
and grain-fields and shining villas. 

From out this plain came pouring the stream of the 
Botteniga, filling the moat beneath my feet, but mostly 
plunging underneath the wall, to reappear upon the 
inner side divided into three or four branches. This 
was just to the right of where I had mounted; and on 
walking to the spot I saw between two of the radiating 
arms a delightful rustic islet, piled with rough cement 
blocks into a tiny hill, atop which sat a summer- 
house overgrown with creepers. A lovely scene, of a 
kind most unexpected. It was attached to a neighboring 
shady garden by a rustic foot-bridge; and beyond it 
the swift waters rushed on diversely between the backs 
of buildings and other gardens, till lost to sight. 

Adjacent to the stream without the wall was some- 
thing still more unusual and surprising: a modern city 
suburb of the upper class, the first one I had yet 
found, consisting' of a road lined with very recent, 
ornate dwellings, separated amongst lawns and mead- 
ows. The North Italians have at last discovered, 
then, the joys of having one's own house, in rural 
surroundings; but as I gazed, I saw, alas! that they 
have not yet discovered the veranda, — that which 




CONEGLIANO. GATEWAY TO OLD TO WX. — CASTLE HILL IN 
BACKGROUND. 




TREVISO. PIAZZA DEI SIGXOKL 



TREVISO 195 

gives rural life most of its charm. These brand-new 
villas were so extraordinary in design and ornamenta- 
tion, so exemplary of the awfully misguided taste of 
the modern Italians, that they were worth walking 
miles to see; such a nameless patchwork of walls, 
pavilions, recesses, chimneys, flat roofs, pent-roofs, 
archways, mansards, — in no style nor method ever 
known to man, with brick here and stone there, plain 
stucco here and rough stucco there, glaring each in 
half a dozen frightful, discordant colors, daubed from 
eaves to basement with every sort of discordant orna- 
ment (forgive the name!), — they were an abominable 
concatenation that would shake the nerves. To cap 
the climax, upon their surrounding lawns was not one 
sheltering tree, nor the sign of one planted; they 
stood forth naked in all their lurid pride. I turned 
my head and hurried eastward along the rampart, 
hoping that living next to Nature will yet bring them 
her quiet harmony. 

Some way beyond the river I went down the first 
street to the south, and shortly, on a left-hand turn- 
ing, came to the interesting little Church of S. Maria 
Maddalena, of the sixteenth century. The edifice 
itself is in no way remarkable, but within it are sev- 
eral good paintings of Paolo Veronese. Four of them 
are upon the side walls, large tableaux representing 
the Resurrection of Lazarus, the Magdalen at Christ's 
feet, the Sacrifice of Abraham, and the Expulsion from 
the Garden of Eden; not being in Paolo's last, over- 
crowded, over-ornamented style, I enjoyed much their 
rich tone, strong modeling, and brilliant colors. Over 
the high-altar is another, and over the altar to the 
left of the choir, the best of them all, — one of those 
smaller crucifixion scenes which that master painted 
so tenderly, with the Madonna lying fainting at the 



196 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Cross's foot, supported by other female saints, and 
over all the scene a sombrous, awesome, murky atmo- 
sphere. There is another, almost identical with this 
canvas, in the Church of S. Sebastiano at Venice. 
Nearly as much as the paintings did I enjoy the con- 
versation of the parrocOy who showed me them, — a 
thorough Italian gentleman, of erudition and most 
engaging manners. 

From the church I stepped back to the rampart, and 
followed it again to the main northern gateway, near 
its eastern end, — the Porta S. Toma, renamed lately 
after Mazzini. This is one of the handsomest city 
gates in North Italy; it is a great, ponderous, square 
structure, rising athwart the wall, stuccoed except 
upon its outer face, and capped by a flat dome with 
a marble statue of St. Paul. In the middle of its long, 
dark passage I found high upon the left wall a little 
shrine of extraordinary beauty, — a marble high-relief 
of the Madonna and Child adored by warriors and an- 
gels, clearly a Renaissance work of the best period, 
and of very exceptional grace and expressiveness. It 
is unfortunate that such a gem should be so little 
known, and its author also. Without the passage 
there was a fine stone bridge crossing the wide moat, 
from which a clear view was commanded of the gate's 
splendid f agade ; it reminded me of the ornamentation 
upon the Renaissance court-fagade of the Palace of 
the Doges, — the six Corinthian marble columns, 
three on each side of the archway, rising from pedes- 
tals, carved with St. Mark's Lion in relief, to rect- 
angular projections of the entablature, — the elabo- 
rately relieved panels between them, cut with shields 
and piles of arms, and the great winged lion with his 
gospel, glowering from atop the arch, above the en- 
graved date of MDXViii. 



TREVISO 197 

Over the bridge was passing each way a continual 
procession of contadini, afoot or mule-back, or driving 
two- wheeled carts; and as I watched, I thought of 
how many, many generations that same march of 
travel had been traversing this same gate, passing on 
up that white road to Germany and Austria, Dalma- 
tia, and Byzantium. I thought of Titian riding 
through the archway on his steady old nag, a stately 
picture in his flowing white beard and velvet gown and 
cap, jogging on toward his native mountains and early 
friends; and the dashing Pordenone spurring through 
on his fiery steed, on a visit to dazzle his townspeople 
with his honors and jeweled finery. 

In this eastern quarter of Treviso beyond the Bot- 
teniga, there is but one more object of general inter- 
est, — the Church of S. Maria Maggiore, toward the 
southeastern corner. I went directly down to it now 
by the Borgo Mazzini, which soon opened into the 
largest piazza of this city of large spaces, yclept del 
Mercato; — and from its southern end, still down, by 
Via Stangade, in which I passed on the left the notice- 
able Casa Lezze Casellati, — more completely cov- 
ered, with better preserved frescoes, than any other I 
had seen. Unfortunately, they were not good frescoes; 
yet the house as a whole was very striking, — its 
fagade ruddy with the flames of Troy, from which 
yEneas was just stalking forth with Anchises on his 
back. 

Shortly beyond I came to S. Maria Maggiore, a 
huge church, with a curious, cream-colored, stucco 
front, pierced by three round and two long, square- 
headed windows, framed by brown cotta mouldings; 
beside it stood another ponderous unfinished campanile, 
— the medieval Italians were ever ambitious beyond 
their powers. The spacious, dusky interior contained 



198 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

several objets d'art of interest : over the entrance door, 
a painting by Palma Giovane, — the Descent from 
the Cross; upon the high-altar, a richly colored pietis- 
tic canvas, attributed to Palma Vecchio; off the left 
aisle, a semicircular chapel, filled with many decadent 
frescoes by Jacopo Laura in 1590; and, principally, the 
ornate Renaissance tomb of the condottiere Mercurio 
Bua, — who, like most of them, fought for Venice. 
This monument is a large marble slab against the left 
wall, cut with three scenes in high-relief, and seven 
charming niches holding maidens with pitchers and 
rounded putti; — all by Bambaja, of the Milanese 
school (1480-1548). It is attractive in many respects, 
though showing evidence of the first decadence. 

Across the bare, sunny piazza before this church I 
noticed a quaint house of the trecento, well preserved, 
and typical of the Gothic secular style in its doors 
and windows of pointed arches, and other picturesque 
details. Before it led the Via Carlo Alberto northwest, 
— one of the very few instances in which I have found 
a street named after that noble, unfortunate initiator 
of Italian unity; and this paucity I think very strange. 
It took me to the city post-oflSce, where I crossed the 
main arm of the Botteniga — with a view of pictur- 
esque old mills amidst the current — to the Piazza and 
church of S. Leonardo, shortly east of the central 
piazza. The building is insignificant; but on the right 
wall of its nave I saw a pleasing old painting of the 
Madonna and Child, accredited to Giovanni Bellini, 
and certainly much in his style. 

Just a block south of this piazza lies the great civic 
hospital of Treviso, occupying an enormous quad- 
rangle between four streets, — one of the largest and 
best institutions of that kind in Italy, the land of 
hospitals; it was founded in 1332, and has been re- 



TREVISO 199 

peatedly enlarged, until it can, I believe, accommo- 
date nearly a thousand patients. I looked through the 
windows at the rows of clean little rooms, shining with 
white walls and whiter linen, and thought what a mar- 
velous godsend it must be to the poor of this locality. 
The nursing sisters completed the scene, with their 
immaculate caps and sweet, unselfish faces. 

Shortly to the west of this piazza, upon a narrow 
way, I found the strange decaying loggia, dating as far 
back as 1195, which they call the Loggia dei Cavalieri, 
because it originally served as an assembly-place for 
the nobles. Square in shape, but one lofty story in 
height, it has five round arches on each side, supported 
on marble pillars; being extraordinarily well propor- 
tioned and harmonious for a building of that so-called 
dark age, and much like a Renaissance structure, — 
so much so as to make one realize that the classic style 
had never died out entirely. Within there are said to 
be fragments of very early frescoes; but I could not 
see them, for the building has become so tottering that 
the authorities have boarded it up entirely. Adjacent 
to it is the small Piazza delle Erbe, usually filled with 
fruit and vegetable stalls, and littered with their 
refuse; from which it is but a step northwestward to 
the rear of the Prefettura. But I followed southwest 
the Via Umberto, upon which the Loggia faces, until 
it brought me to the Via Vittorio Emanuele just 
above the hotel, — completing thus my first giro 
through Treviso. 

Li the little southeast section of the original town, 
a triangular space between Via Umberto and the main 
branches of the Sile and Botteniga, there are several 
objects of some interest, which I hunted up one after- 
noon. Firstly, I found a sma,ll three-sided piazza in the 
section's western angle, near the hotel, fronted by two 



200 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

large palaces and the Church of S. Andrea, the latter 
standing upon the highest point in the city; within it 
hang two attractive paintings, — a picture of St. 
Andrew by Bevilacqua, over the high-altar, and one of 
Giovanni Bellini's glorious golden Madonnas, with S. 
Lucia and S. Crisostomo. 

Opposite on the west stands the Renaissance palace 
of Count degli Azzoni, huge and imposing, once beauti- 
fied by frescoes now vanished, with a spacious orna- 
mental cortile; on the south rises the residence of the 
Conti d' Onigo, renowned for the vast and beautiful 
garden that stretches clear to the Sile, resplendent 
with statues, vases, grottoes, and kiosks, and stretching 
over the water the boughs of its stately trees. There 
seems an unusual darkness in the deep shade of that 
grassy bank, and well may it be; for it was the scene, 
in 1903, of the tragedy of self-destruction that cut off 
the last scion of that famous family, — a sad end to 
its centuries of grandeur. 

Upon the Via Regina, — which divides this section, 
leading from the Piazza dei Signori straight south- 
easterly to the middle bridge over the Sile, — I found 
an exceptionally interesting Renaissance dwelling, 
well down on the east side, near the river, adorned 
with four stories of charming windows and other pleas- 
ant details, besides remnants of frescoing in graceful 
designs; and on reaching the immense civic hospital 
shortly to east of it, I discovered a way down its left 
flank to the river, that was a vista lifted bodily from 
the twelfth century. It could not have been touched 
for hundreds of years. So narrow that I could almost 
reach from wall to wall, rudely paved and filthy, it 
was covered and darkened by the far protruding first 
floors of a long row of ancient houses which thrust 
out decaying beams from their crumbling walls. Walk- 



TREVISO 201 

ing through this medieval, dusky passage, past little 
iron-studded doors and slit, prison-like windows, I 
almost expected to see a bravo step out before me 
with cloak, gauntlet, and dagger. The contrast at its 
end was all the greater, when I emerged suddenly upon 
the broad] sunny quay and splashing blue water of the 
Sile, which rushed over a weir into glistening white 
foam. Away to the west stretched the green line of 
luxuriant maple trees upon its farther bank, to where 
the vista was arched by a roseate gilded bow from the 
vanished sun ; immediately on the left the main arm of 
the Botteniga came roaring in, under the broad stone 
arches of the quay; and the joined waters soon turned 
at right angles to the south, sweeping on between rows 
of foliage. Such was their confluence, where Dante 
once lingered in admiration. 

I strolled upon the bridged embankment over the 
junction, and there, as Italy never fails in gentle feel- 
ings, stood midway over the torrent a tasteful monu- 
ment in marble: no statuesque form, but a simple 
medallion on the face of a pyramid, graved with the 
poet's laureled head in profile; and under that, the 
words that he wrote in memory of this spot, in canto 
IX of the immortal Paradiso : — 

E dove Sile e Cagnan s' accompagna — 

— Ah, that great, unfortunate wanderer from realm to 
realm, with no home to lay his head, exiled from all he 
loved so tenderly, — as I thought of him standing 
melancholy on this spot, Rossetti's lines came to my 
mind : — 

— Arriving only to depart, 
From court to court, from land to land. 
Like flame within the naked hand 
His body bore his burning heart. 
That still on Florence strove to bring 
God's fire for a burnt offering. 



202 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

I walked on farther, down the stream in the dreamy 
sunset glow, till, traversing the ramparts and joining 
its southern arm, it swept united eastward along the 
base of the city wall. Here was a lovely spot, with 
gardens upon one side trailing over the battlements, 
and woods of thick trees upon the other, as far as the 
huge round bastion at the town's southeastern corner; 
peaceful now at eventide with strolling couples, where 
"swords once flashed and arrows flew, and lifeblood 
stained the water another hue." 

One morning I went to the Duomo by a shorter, 
directer route than that through the central piazza, 
by little streets west of Via Calmaggiore and parallel 
with it. I passed by the small church of S. Gregorio, 
near the piazza, insignificant in design as well as size; 
but on glancing over it found an excellent work of 
Palma Giovane. In Italy no sod is too poor to hide a 
violet. Shortly beyond I found a thing still more 
pleasing, — a splendid Gothic palace, rising upon a 
noble arcade of pointed arches, with exquisite Gothic 
windows and other details. This was hidden in a byway 
a block south of the retired Piazza Pola ; surround- 
ing which, and all about the neighborhood, I found a 
number of interesting old houses, of different styles. 
The Gothic dwellings are the rarest in Treviso, but 
here and there one is unexpectedly discovered, — 
usually arcaded upon the ground story, of bricks with 
handsome cotta plaques adorning the quoins, some- 
times on primitive pillars, sometimes on columns of 
shining marble. That fine Lombard cotta-work would 
beautify the homeliest building. 

From the west corner of the Piazza Pola one of the 
oldest streets of the city runs southwestward, a pic- 
turesque vista of ruinous two-story houses with wide- 
projecting floors. Beyond this a very narrow, dark 



TREVISO 203 

way brought me to the apse of the Cathedral, looming 
overhead Hke a colossus; and I circled round it through 
one of those curious hidden areas of Italian cities, 
devoted to the lowest class of wineshops and houses. 
Here in the very shadow of the Duomo were low dark 
places filled with tuns and barrels, and bulging them 
upon the area, with dirty tables, rush-seated chairs, 
and emptied bottles, — noisy all the nights, deserted 
at this hour but for one or two lazy, sleeping tatter- 
demalions. 

I came out upon the Piazza del Duomo, and took 
the Via Ganova northwest, past Olivi's house. It led 
me to the Borgo Cavour, Treviso's broadest street, 
running to the only western gateway. Porta Cavour, 
which pierces the ramparts near the city's northwest 
corner. Here were fresh, dignified, modern buildings, 
a church, — S. Agnese, — and opposite the latter, on 
the right, the extensive edifices of the Biblioteca and 
Museo Comunale. The former is noted for its collec- 
tion of valuable manuscripts. In the latter was for- 
merly kept the city's collection of paintings, now re- 
moved to the palace on the central piazza. After much 
hammering, I routed out a spectacled old gentleman in 
knee-breeches, who confessed himself to be a professor 
of art, and the guardian of the place, but asserted that 
there was nothing now to be seen here, and nobody 
ever came.to see it. I insisted, however, until he turned 
me over to his good dame, with a sigh, and a bunch of 
enormous rusty keys. 

She conducted me back through the passage, to 
several rooms packed and littered with ancient and 
medieval bits of sculpture and architecture, which a 
couple of wood-turners were now using as a workshop. 
I poked about through the huge, heterogeneous, dis- 
orderly mass, unearthing a number of things of con- 



204 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

siderable interest, including one or two medieval stone 
Madonnas of quaint grace. Then my conductress took 
me upstairs, and unlocked one forgotten cobwebbed 
room after another, till a full score of them stood open 
in dust and decay to my astonished eyes. 

Here were old paintings, etchings, engravings, sculp- 
tures in marble, bronze, porcelain and terra-cotta. 
Delft ware, Gubbio ware, faence, majolica, carvings 
in ivory and wood, textile fabrics of every sort and 
costumes of every age, laces, miniatures, gems, cameos, 
manuscripts plain and illuminated, Murano glass, 
German stained glass, spinets, harpsichords, lutes, 
psalteries, medieval arms and armor, tapestries, em- 
broideries, churchly vestments, candelabra, furniture 
of many epochs, — in a word, every sort of human 
instrument or manufacture, possessing artistic merit 
or historical association, produced or used during the 
past ten centuries. All these were scattered through 
the rooms and corridors without order or arrangement, 
piled in heaps, thrust in corners, spread behind glass 
cases, haftging upon the walls, and all alike covered 
with the dust and cobwebs of years. It was a gold- 
mine of the countless artistic treasures and produc- 
tions of the long-past generations. Here were all the 
things that once beautified their castles and medieval 
houses, — that sprang into joyous life in the glamour of 
the Renaissance, — that they used and lived with in 
those strange, varied ages. Digging here, it was easy to 
reconstruct in mind a medieval household, or a palace 
of the cinquecento, with these very articles that had 
played such a part, — even to the gowns, the laces, 
and silken coats of the human beings that had dwelt 
amongst them. 

There was an intimacy about these thousands of 
orderless relics, cast thus on one side as if used but 



TREVISO 205 

yesterday, — a lack of formality and tagged arrange- 
ment, of removal to a distance in stiff rows and cate- 
gories, — that took me into those bygone days, revivi- 
fied for me their life and dwellings, and warmed my 
heart towards those very human people of long-past 
ages, in a way that no conventional museum nor expo- 
sition had ever succeeded in doing. It seemed to me 
like the garret of a great house, to which its inmates 
had just been casting their worn-out finery; and that 
I should find them all alive again on descending the 
stairs, walking about in costumes and amongst furn- 
ishings like these thrown aside. It was a unique ex- 
perience, a unique opportunity, in this modern world 
with its sad, eternal sameness ; which — alas — can 
no longer be repeated at this spot. For the good dame 
informed me that they were even now at work classi- 
fying and arranging this heterogeneous mass, to shape 
it into a fine museum with formal rooms and ordered 
cases ; — another display to chill the heart and under- 
standing. 

Chief of all the treasures which this mine produced 
for me were a score of extraordinary trecento frescoes, 
that had been transferred bodily on strips of plaster 
from an ancient church now turned into a barrack. 
They hung upon the walls of the first long hall I en- 
tered, illuminilQg its dusty shade with their still bright 
hues, in broad, soft masses; and their lovely, rounded 
forms, with charming eyes, smiled at me from glowing 
medieval groups, — feminine saints performing mira- 
cles, or going to their execution. But that which made 
me stop to consider was their power of execution, the 
moulding of those well-drawn figures, the way in 
which they stood forth from the level real and tangible, 
— a wonderful ability in a painter of the fourteenth 
century. There were few indeed, closely following 



206 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Giotto, who could learn that power. And these strong 
figures were naturally yet gracefully arranged, in 
compositions of dramatic vigor, speaking their parts 
with elevated sincerity and effect. Who could this 
painter be.'' I had never seen his work before. The 
woman also did not know. But when we descended, 
the professor in knee-breeches answered me, with a 
shout of amazement, — " Tommaso da Modena!" 

Why, of coui'se; who else could it have been.'' But 
if Tommaso possessed such powers as these, it is a 
pity they are not more widely known. I decided to re- 
pair at once to inspect his other works, at the great 
Dominican Church of S. Niccolo. 

Before leaving the Museum buildings I looked out 
of a rear window at the extensive stretch of woodland 
behind them. Here, in the very northwest corner of 
the city, was a wide area of groves and gardens, once 
the private grounds of nobles, which the Signory were 
now converting, with the aid of paths and shrubbery, 
into an attractive public park. When finished, it will 
be an addition to Treviso's beauties that should de- 
light any visitor from the North, longing for the shade 
and coolness of his native wealds. 

S. Niccolo, really the principal sight of the city, 
stands in its southwestern corner, approached by a 
long, straight, wide thoroughfare of the same name, 
that leads directly west from Via Vittorio Emanuele, 
shortly below the hotel. This street widens, halfway, 
into the Piazza Bressa; and upon this piazza's north- 
ern side I found the town's most interesting house: 
a Renaissance dwelling, covered upon its stuccoed 
f agade with frescoes of extraordinary preservation, — 
frescoes of huge, saintly figures, arrayed in the long- 
hose and puffed sleeves of the middle cinquecento, — 
powerful, well-moulded figures with thick necks, glow- 



TREVISO 207 

ing with brilliant colors, — the figures of Pordenone, 
This is the only fagade remaining to us of the several 
which that artist painted here, — and one of the very, 
very few remaining anywhere in Italy from the hand 
of an old master of the first rank. 

As far again beyond this, loomed up the giant struc- 
ture of the Dominican church upon the left; it is a 
Gothic edifice of the beginning of the trecento, — 
erected under the direction of Pope Benedict XI, who 
was an inmate of its monastery, — and has been for 
its many treasures constituted a national monument. 
Its face is to the west, its left side towards the street. 
The red brick exterior, pierced by lancet windows, 
presented to me no special merit; and I entered by the 
great front doorway, as the sun was sinking in a sea of 
gold. 

Ah! what a mighty, dusk-laden interior was this, 
soaring on colossal white pillars to indefinite heights, 
traversed by slender light-rays from the lofty windows, 
and crowned in the far distance by a glistening altar 
under a curving apse, in the centre of which glowed a 
great and radiant picture from a golden frame; through 
the chiaroscuro, breathing the incense of centuries, 
filtered softly, sweetly, the old hues of saintly frescoes 
from every pillar and wall, smiling from quaint figures 
in medieval garb. How strange was this effect, — to 
behold on each large white column a form of heroic 
size, faintly lustrous, livened by the dusk, martial in 
mail and sword or holy in flowing vestments; while 
many others gazed with them at the visitor from the 
walls of the stuccoed aisles. 

Recovering from the first weird sensation, I saw 
that they were all, or nearly all, trecento work; the 
executors had been Tommaso da Modena, chiefly, and 
several fellow artists; those of Tommaso being clearly 



208 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

distinguished by their superiority of drawing and 
moulding, having natural rounded faces with keen 
eyes of strong expressiveness. Especially lovely was 
his St. Agnes, immediately to the left, with the tiny 
lamb nestling in her left hand, — also the St. Cather- 
ine, on the fourth column to the right. Behind the 
latter, on the wall of the right aisle, there glowered 
suddenly before me a form so gigantic and monstrous 
as to take my breath away, — a bare-legged Colossus, 
forty feet in height, strange and terrible for a second 
in the masking eventide. But it was only a fresco of 
St. Christopher, painted by Antonio da Treviso in 
1410, — perhaps the largest painted figure in exist- 
ence. 

The noble proportions of this vast edifice, one of 
the few grandest Gothic interiors of Italy, struck me 
with a keen delight, — so free and majestic are the 
lines. Lofty, striped, pointed arches leap from one 
mighty column to another, and rise triumphally before 
and behind the choir, whose apse is luminous with 
seven taU lancet windows; the arched roof is of the 
wooden construction of the Eremetani of Padua, soar- 
ing buoyantly far above the gleaming marble floor. 
No chapel recesses break the sweeping lines of the con- 
fining walls; but little altars stand against them, one 
in each bay, under its two lofty windows. 
. Over the main doorway I saw another quaint early 
fresco, of the Annunciation; the great church is a gen- 
uine gallery of primitive artists, a class all by itself. 
But I went on to the later paintings around the apse. 
In the chapel to the right of the choir, over the altar, 
is the famous large canvas of Sebastiano del Piombo, 
representing the risen Christ surrounded by the twelve 
apostles, all standing, and St. Thomas putting his 
fingers to the wound in the Saviour's side; while under- 




TREVISO. A>'>UIsCIATION. (TIZIAXO.) 



TREVISO 209 

neatli appear the half -figures of six proud Trevisans, 
priests and women. It is a splendid work, of noble 
dignity and earnestness, exceedingly rich in tone and 
coloring, — so grand, indeed, that many insist it to 
be a production of Giovanni Bellini. Upon the walls 
of this chapel are other frescoes by Tommaso da 
Modena, similar in style and merit to those upon the 
columns. 

On entering the choir my heart was lifted in delight 
by two superb products of the Renaissance. On its 
left wall before the altar stands the celebrated tomb 
of Count Agostino Onigo, — one of the finest accom- 
plishments, if not the masterpiece, of Pietro and 
Tullio Lombardi: two beautiful marble sarcophagi, 
one above the other, both exquisitely enriched by 
delicate reliefs, project from the wall within a large 
marble oval, — the lower supported by two heavy 
corbels, the upper by fanciful lion's claws resting on 
the former; the lower adorned at its centre and angles 
with three lovely 'putti holding horns of plenty, and 
between them, two wreaths of fruited branches con- 
taining fine Roman heads in profile; the upper cut 
with a spread eagle in centre, and round about it the 
daintiest possible arabesques of convoluted foliage. 
From one corbel to the other, another garland, pon- 
derously rich, depends in a semicircle, enclosing a 
porphyry medallion with marble wings; and on the 
top of all stand three striking marble forms: the Count- 
Senator in the middle, stern and powerful, with his 
square, clean-shaven face and robe of honor, — two 
charming little pages at the sides, in doublet, long- 
hose and flowing curls, each holding a shield with the 
Onigo lion rampant, each a perfect foil to the dignity 
of the noble. But this is not all: for around the 
marble oval is a huge frame of bright arabesques in 



210 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

color, and at its foot to right and left, two splendid 
cinquecento warriors in glowing finery, so naturally- 
painted that they stand forth tangible, in their 
haughty pride. By many this frescoing is called the 
work of Bellini; but more likely it is that of Jacopo 
de' Barbari. There are few monuments like this, — 
so successful, on such a scale, in its charming combina- 
tion of the two branches of art. 

The other masterpiece here is that great picture 
which glistens down the nave from the centre of the 
apse- wall, high above and behind the altar; as I 
stepped nearer, it opened upon me with a refulgent 
glory almost divine, — the radiance of form and color 
characteristic of those chefs d'oeuvre that glorified the 
Renaissance, and made Italy the treasure-casket of 
the world. Like the sunset which I had left without, 
its gorgeous colors burst from the glowing tone; in 
a celestial atmosphere the Madonna sat enthroned, 
amidst saintly figures of monks and bishops, of bea- 
tific serenity. Seldom have I seen a more perfect, 
clean-cut 'execution than this, which caused the forms 
to stand forth living beings, and beings of superhuman 
beauty, with their spiritual faces and glossy robes. 
Between them, on a velvet carpet over marble steps, 
reclined a flowing-haired angel of celestial loveliness, 
playing softly on a psaltery with rapt, upturned gaze; 
but loveliest of all was the sweet Madonna, over 
whose gentle head rose the high, ornate back of the 
marble throne, and, still higher, the curving dome of 
the covering pavilion, whose marble arches opened 
upon a sky of cumulous white clouds. 

Whose hand made this wondrous thing of beauty, 
worthy of Titian or Palma.'^ It was a pair of hands, — 
Fra Marco Pensabene, of Venice, the Dominican, who 
commenced the work, and Girolamo Savoldo, of 



TREVISO 211 

Brescia, who completed it ; the latter's paintings are 
distinguished for their high beauty and finish, for this 
same depth of tone and color, and refinement of draw- 
ing, while no such other splendid relic of the former's 
brush is known; so I conceive this to be chiefly the 
product of Savoldo's genius. Says the critic, Professor 
Giovanni Milanese, — "Gli artisti sentono una mano 
che seppe fondere insieme il magico colorire del Gior- 
gione col divino disegnare di Raffaele." ^ 

When I had turned at last from this delight, and 
was glancing at the curious baroque monument of 
Pope Benedict XI on the right wall, in which the Pope 
is sculptured as seated between two cherubs, before a 
wildly tossing curtain, — a gentle voice at my side an- 
nounced the abbot of the monastery, the Reverend 
Professor Ogniben, a man of charming culture and 
deportment. He chatted a while engagingly about his 
artistic treasures, and then led me to the sacristy and 
the adjacent cloister! In the former he discovered to 
me two canvases of Palma Giovane, and out of the 
latter opened a square chamber of exceptional interest, 
— the old oratory of the friars, dating from at least 
1170. In the centre of the rear wall a large Byzantine 
fresco of the Crucifixion confronted me, executed 
about that date, but remarkably preserved. Two 
saints stood beside the nude, contorted form of the 
dying Saviour; four angels, likewise weeping, appeared 
in the air above; and under quaint wooden canopies at 
the sides were Saints Paul and Peter; — altogether a 
work, for that period, of wonderfully good drawing 
and sincere expression. 

This room was called, after the fresco, the Cappella 
del Crocefisso. All around the ancient walls other 

^ The artists perceive a hand that knew how to mingle the magic col- 
oring ofGiorgione with the divine designing o£ Raphael. 



212 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

painted figures looked down upon me, primitive also, 
but so realistic and lifelike as to excite a still greater 
surprise; they were all Dominican friars, seated each 
within a little cell, before a table laden with books or 
parchments, reading or writing, with their earnest 
faces highly individualized, — faithful portraits, as 
was evident, of brothers who had made their mark in 
the world. Here were, as the inscriptions indicated. 
Saints Pietro Martire and Thomas Aquinas, Popes 
Innocent V and Benedict XI, and many that had 
earned fame in other ways. But my surprise at such 
realistic modeling and expression in works evidently of 
the trecento, was dissipated when the good abbot re- 
vealed the author, — "Tommaso da Modena." I 
thanked him when I left, for opening my eyes to the 
full merits of that little known artist; and he sent next 
day to my hotel an illustrated booklet of seventy-five 
pages devoted to the beauties of S. Niccolo. Before 
departing, however, I made with the courteous father 
another round of the church, in which he pointed out 
to me several of its minor jewels: another canvas or 
two of Palma Giovane, an attractive altar-top by 
Girolamo Campagna, a picture by Francesco Bassano, 
and other works of lesser interest, including one by 
Marco Vecellio. 

After this visit I had but one more to pay in Tre- 
viso, — which took me, the next day, back to the cen- 
tral piazza where I had begun. The handsome Renais- 
sance structures at its southern angle are twain, 
connected by a high arcade; the right-hand loggia, of 
the fire and telegraph building, being supported on 
Doric columns encased in rings; the left-hand loggia 
consisting of rusticated arches, bearing an upper story 
of three windows, with coupled Ionic half-columns 
between them and at the angles. In this 'piano nobile 



TREVISO 213 

were three large chambers, in which I found the city's 
collection of paintings now established, — though not 
yet entirely hung. Two of the rooms contained works 
of the Renaissance period, mostly of small account; 
the third, some good modern canvases, including sev- 
eral of high merit. 

In the first chamber I enjoyed two fine portraits by 
Leandro Bassano, of a young man and his wife, and a 
picture of a Dominican monk by Lorenzo Lotto, of 
much naturalism and individuality. In the second room 
were, amongst many others, a sublime Madonna by 
Giovanni Bellini ; a Holy Family with Saints Roch and 
Sebastian, by Paolo Veronese, not well composed, but 
having graceful figures superbly modeled; one of Tin- 
toretto's lifelike portraits, of Bartolommeo, the father 
of Bianca Capello; a splendid Adoration of the Magi 
by an unknown hand, possessing an extensive hilly 
landscape graduated softly from brown hues to blue, 
and beautifully toned and colored; also two exquisite 
works by Paris Bordone, — the first a Madonna on a 
high pedestal, before a stretch of pretty country, with 
a baby angel at her feet and two saints at the sides, — 
the second (claimed by some to be a Palma Vecchio, 
and very much in his style), being a most lovely Holy 
Family, very rich in hues, graceful, and skillfully 
lighted, with softest and most attractive fleshwork, — 
a painting of the very first rank. This was, it is true, 
a small collection for Italy; but what countless enco- 
miums would it not bring forth, what offers of count- 
less gold, if it could be bodily transported across the 
sea. 

There is another Lorenzo Lotto, perhaps finer than 
any of the foregoing canvases, just outside of Treviso, 
in the village church of S. Cristina, five miles distant; 
it is a Madonna enthroned with saints, of his usual high 



214 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

sensuousness and gorgeous coloring, and to my mind 
well worth the drive. But there is a far greater object 
to be visited from this city, — the renowned Villa 
Giacomelli, perhaps the most artistic of all those 
numerous chateaux that were built about the country 
by the patricians of Venice.^ It stands just at the foot 
of the Alps, some fifteen miles northwest of Treviso 
and ten miles east of Bassano; easily to be visited, 
therefore, by carriage from the latter place, but more 
comfortably by rail from Treviso to Cornuda, three 
miles distant. There, where the slopes of the foothills 
commence, just without the little village of Maser, 
this monument of the Renaissance was raised by the 
prominent Venetian family of Barbaro, — Marcanto- 
nio Barbaro, Procurator of St. Mark, and his brother 
Daniele, the Patriarch of Aquileia, — and was made 
immortal by the conjoint labor of three of the great- 
est artists of the age. Palladio designed the palace, 
Paolo Veronese painted it, Alessandro Vittoria en- 
riched it .with his sculptures. 

What a vision is raised for us by the sound of those 
three names together; where else is there such a resid- 
ence, constructed in all three branches of art by the 
leading masters of its period.^ The fame of Villa Bar- 
baro soon resounded far and wide when it was finished, 
raising it at once to a chief place in the galaxy of 
Venetian country-houses, celebrated by visiting artists 
and literati, and the scene subsequently of many a 
fete of the great world in the seventeenth and eight- 

^ A third trip that should be taken from Treviso, by travelers endowed 
with time, is by rail up the valley of the Piave to Feltre and Belluno; a 
journey of delightful scenery, which reaches its maximum at Belluno, upon 
its isolated lofty rock girdled by great mountain ranges. The city is 
picturesque also in its winding medieval streets, shadowed by quaint old 
houses and dignified palaces of the Renaissance; it has a fine Titian, a 
Cathedral by Palladio, and charming walks on all sides. 




MASER. VILLA GIACOMELLI. CENTRAL PAVILION. 




MASER. VILLA GIACOMELLI. ENTRANCE, WITH FOUNTAIN AND 
LITTLE TEMPLE. 



TREVISO 215 

eenth centuries.^ In it died Lodovico Marin, the last 
Doge of Venice, to the possession of whose family it 
had passed; from the Marin it descended through 
marriage to the Masena family, and from them by 
similar process to the Giacomelli, by whose name it is 
to-day generally known. 

One bright morning, therefore, I was rolling north- 
westward across the plain toward the mountains, on 
the line that climbs the valley of the Piave to Feltre 
and Belluno; and I watched the Alpine wall come 
steadily closer and higher, while the train slowly 
abated its momentum on the ever increasing grade of 
the unseen slope. Away on each side stretched the 
smiling fields of corn and vine, the vineyards radiating 
far rows of stunted trees, from which the garlands 
swung glistening with bright leaf and tendril and new- 
fledged grape : — 

I must say 
That Italy 's a pleasant place to me, 
' Who love to see the sunshine every day. 

And vines (not nailed to walls) from tree to tree 
Festooned, much like the back scene of a play.* 

At the town of Montebello, where joins the branch 
from Castelfranco and Padua, we met the first of the 
foothills; behind it came a wild stretch of wooded 
country, undulating in long swells, over which the 
engine panted slowly to the second line of hills. At 
their very feet I disembarked, in the scattered village 
of Cornuda; and securing a little vehicle, started west- 
ward on the old highway to Asolo and Bassano. 

It was a delightful drive: the road was level, but on 

^ It was here that Lord Burlington — who was enamored of Palladio's 
works, and had made a journey into Italy in order to hunt down some of 
his lost designs — claimed to have discovered a number of the great mas- 
ter's plans and notes, which the English nobleman published in his eu- 
logium of 1730. * Lord Byron, Beppo. 



216 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

both sides of this restricted upland section of the plain 
rose the hills' dark, wooded flanks, loftier on the north, 
— dotted amidst their umbrageous wildness with 
occasional white villages topped by campanili, with 
towered gray castles, and glistening villas. The floor 
of the vale was richly cultivated; but here too were 
trees in exceptional abundance, in groves and orchards, 
shading the gardens and lining the fields. It did not 
seem like Italy, nor did the frequent farmhouses along 
the road, except for the old, broken, stucco walls, and 
front barnyards littered with refuse and manure. 
Venice was like Florence in the peace that she gave her 
territory, permitting living upon the soil at an age 
when everywhere else it was impossible. For the same 
reason her patricians could build country-places of 
beauty, instead of fortified castles, from the cinque- 
cento downward. 

The fine, hard road wound along between hedges 
and trees, fields of Indian corn and wheat, vineyards 
and orchards; now and then we passed a group of peas- 
ants traveling in their regular mode, — packed five 
or six into a tiny two-wheeled cart without seat or 
springs, their heavy boots dangling from front and 
rear, as they sat on the bottom back to back, their 
round red faces peering curiously from beneath large 
caps, over the big market-baskets upon their laps. 
After some three quarters of an hour we traversed the 
straggling village street of Maser, and just beyond 
it came to a beautiful, classic, stuccoed church at the 
left of the road, with glittering white columns and 
ornate pediment; it was the chapel of the Villa Gia- 
comelli, constructed in 1580.^ 

^ This was also Palladio's work, and is ornamented by the plaster- 
sculpture of Vittoria. The latter executed the adjacent ornamental foun- 
tain, in the middle of the road, which is a faithful example of the taste of 
the later cinquecento. 



VILLA GIACOMELLI £17 

Near by were a large sculptured fountain, in the 
very decorative style of the Late-Renaissance, and a 
large closed gateway on the right, through whose bars I 
saw a graveled avenue leading straightaway up a long 
slope, between brick parapets crowned at intervals by 
charming little statues of putti. At the upper end of 
this pleasing vista, unshaded by any trees, stretched 
the long, imposing fagade of the villa itself, glittering 
marble-like over the green fields and across the fertile 
valley. What an admirable, commanding situation 
this was; and how the whiteness of its stuccoed columns 
and arcades gleamed in the sun, against the wood of 
tall pines rising darkly behind! 

In the centre, looking directly down the avenue, 
projected a graceful, two-storied pavilion, with four 
Ionic half-columns supporting a pediment filled with 
a sculptured tableau; from this centre ran somewhat 
lower arcades to right and to left, — simple stuccoed 
arches on stucco piers, with sloping red-tiled roofs, 
and two stories of windows gazing from under them; 
at the ends were pavilions, rising on similar arches 
more widely spaced, which had no openings in their 
upper floors, but instead, large painted sun-dials. 
Before the front door lay a handsome circular flower- 
bed, with four marble divinities standing around it; 
other statues adorned the plot before the villa, and the 
glitter was complemented by a series of tall white chim- 
neys rising from the tiles. I walked on slowly up the 
driveway, and, as I did so, thought of the countless il- 
lustrious guests that had walked here in past days, — 
warriors, statesmen, artists, poets, — the great men 
of three successive centuries. 

I bent my steps to a door in the right arcade, intro- 
duced myself to the housekeeper, a very pleasant 
person, learned that the proprietors were fortunately 



218 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

absent, and hence received a permission to look over 
the piano nohile. One of the finest traits of the Itahan 
nobihty is the gracious readiness with which they 
suffer strangers to inspect their homes. A maid who 
was detailed to guide me led the way up the main 
staircase, from the beginning of the right arcade to 
the rear hall of the central pavilion; this last was a 
large square chamber, with gleaniing white parietes 
illumined by a flood of light from the back windows 
and doorway, with a handsome dining-table in the 
centre, and rich furniture and canvases about the 
walls. But that which irradiated the apartment with 
gorgeous hues was its lofty arched ceiling, brilliantly 
painted from end to end, representing a heaven of white 
rolling clouds, peopled with a beautiful, spectacular 
assemblage of classic gods and goddesses. 

It was the Olympus of ancient Greece; and upon the 
wall over the entrance glowed a banquet scene, at 
which the diners here below doubtless often looked 
up, quaffing their wine in jovial imitation of the gods 
and their cups of nectar. Above the windows shone 
another such Olympic tableau; and along the upper 
sides extended realistic balustrades, upon whose rail- 
ings leaned silken cinquecento figures, returning the 
gaze of those below, in the company of monkeys, dogs, 
and parrots, — inevitable companions of the Renais- 
sance nobility. The frescoing was completed by single 
figures of Olympians on the four pendentives of the 
vaulting. All these many graceful divinities, in their 
more or less nude forms of splendid modeling and lus- 
trous flesh, their brilliantly tinted, flowing draperies 
and hair, their beautiful countenances and impressive 
mien, — radiated the joys of life, the harmonies of 
art, the pleasures of the table, the enchantments of 
fair women, the bliss of paradise, on sumptuous waves 



VILLA GIACOMELLI 219 

of color that must have inspired the mortal banqueters 
with a like felicity. 

Paolo Cagliari was in the very prime of his powers, 
between fifty and sixty years of age, when with his 
magic brush, rioting in those dreams of carnal happi- 
ness and magnificence that most quickened it, he 
lifted this chamber to the immortality which is here 
depicted. With the constant increase of his fame and 
wealth, love of splendor and ostentation had grown 
upon him, step by step with his own joyous revelings, 
till it spread itself resplendent in these gorgeous scenes 
of feasting and mythology, and produced elsewhere 
those strange gigantic canvases of banquets glittering 
in princely pomp. Then he could no longer portray a 
group of simple piety, — a picture that would speak 
to the heart; and when he tried, the martyrdom that 
was attempted emerged as a glistening show of silks 
and jewels. So was produced that Death of S. Gius- 
tina at Padua, and the great Marriage of Cana in the 
Louvre. Strangest of all, but perfectly typical of the 
epoch, Paolo at the same time asserted a piety pro- 
found, and was constant in his churchly devotions. 
Only a few years after painting this villa, in 1588, he 
died in the very "odor of sanctity." 

The full, complete beauty of this dining-hall was 
not, however, revealed to me until I stepped to the open 
doorway in the rear, — to be struck by a sight that 
held me motionless : a little garden lay before me, level 
with the floor, holding in its centre a basin of water 
with a tinkling fountain ; and behind it, close at hand, 
circling round upon all sides, rose a wall of stucco 
shaped into one great mass of sculpture, glistening and 
coruscating in the dazzling sunlight enough to blind 
the unexpecting eyes. This, then, was Vittoria's addi- 
tion to the palace, — a statued garden such as no other 



220 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

age would have produced. The wall sloped upward to 
a flat central gable, under which an archway formed 
the entrance to a grotto, guarded by two giant forms 
leaning against the jambs, — Atlantes supporting the 
entablature; while over the entablature, and all around 
the curving walls, shone a score of other gleaming 
figures, nude and beautiful, from the midst of gar- 
lands, futti, niches, shields, and piles of ancient arms, 
all executed in high-relief. One large garland of fruits 
drooped across the arch-top, supported by two lovely, 
winged, female divinities leaning upon its quarters, — 
a very unique and charming design; above their heads 
rose the peak of the long, flat gable, having a heavy, 
block cornice, and at their sides, in the angles be- 
tween the eaves and lower cornice, glowed the joyous 
reds and blues of two oblong frescoes in rococo frames, 
— Venus playing with Cupid, in cinquecento coiffure, 
and little else. 

Under the cornice on both sides were niches at inter- 
vals, containing the statues, with panels of arms be- 
tween "them, and drooping garlands mounted astride 
by the most charming cherubs. The whole construc- 
tion was surmounted, on the front of its peak, by an- 
other moulded Venus, whose form shone like living 
alabaster against the black pines towering behind. 
Such was the classical vision that poured its irides- 
cent curves through the wide openings of the salon, 
to complement the painted paradise overhead. 

My guide now opened a door in the left wall, and 
revealed four successive chambers on that side, all 
looking upon the garden, luxuriously furnished as 
bed- and living-rooms, and bearing evidences of late 
occupation. Upon their ceilings disported the Greek 
immortals of Veronese in decorative poses, though few 
in number compared with the hall; in the first room 




>IASER. VILLA GIACOMELLI. DETAIL OF WALL. (PAOLO VERONESE.) 



VILLA GIACOMELLI 221 

was also a lovely fresco of Madonna and Child; in 
tlie last, a very handsome canopied bed of former 
times, and upon the end wall, a painting of startling 
deceptiveness. This was an open doorway, through 
which a huntsman was just entering, accompanied by 
a dog, — and his features were those of Paolo Cagliari 
himself. He was a good-looking man, of fair beard 
and good proportions, on whom the years sat very 
easily, — resembling more a merry country squire than 
one's idea of an artist. 

On the other side of the hall I was shown four sim- 
ilar rooms. The first again contained a Madonna on 
the wall and Greek divinities on the ceiling; the third 
was decorated in Pompeian style, with little panels 
of pretty landscapes amongst the grotesques (not the 
work of Cagliari) ; and in the fourth was another painted 
open doorway on the end wall, this time admitting the 
person of an attractive woman, — the wife of Vero- 
nese. Thus he and she still look down the vista of the 
rooms he glorified, through the open doorways all in 
a line, till their glances find each other at the distant 
ends. In this final chamber stood another gorgeous 
bed, upon its ceiling gambolled graceful 'putti, and on 
the walls were various paintings by Paolo's pupils; — 
a bewitching ensemble, which, I fancy, would hold in 
the country most of the year any art-lover having the 
joy of its occupancy. 

Last of all I was conducted to the main hall, which 
occupies the front part of the central pavilion, ad- 
jacent to the dining-salon. It is in the form of a Greek 
cross, with four chambers filling the corners between 
the arms. In the centre is a four-sided divan topped 
by a marble statue; overhead are charming arab- 
esques covering the whole of the vaulted ceilings ; and 
round about the walls, eight frescoes by Veronese, 



PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

representing niches containing brightly tinted, alle- 
gorical, female figures, — symbolizing the different 
branches of music. But besides these, Paolo had 
placed here two more of those curious, deceptive, 
open doorways, apparently leading into the cham- 
bers, — double doors in each case, with one of each 
pair partly ajar, and two youthful figures just step- 
ping through them, a girl and a boy, clad in the 
pretty costumes of Paolo's age. Over all the wall- 
spaces not so utilized, he had constructed with his 
brush an elaborate architectual scheme in grisaille, 
with pilasters, cornices, and little panels of designs 
and figures; into which scheme the imitation niches 
and doorways were carefully fitted. 

Amongst these painted pilasters I also discerned a 
number of grisaille medallions bearing heads; and my 
guide informed me that they were likenesses of the 
Barbaro family, and of the three great artists who had 
labored here for them. She then opened the two front 
rooms, always the guest-chambers of the villa, which 
were beautiful with wood mosaic floors, ornate stucco 
chimneys, and ceilings glowing with the opulent 
colors of Veronese. One of these very decorative pic- 
tures was the so-called "Matrimony," or antique 
wedding-scene; the other, a scene of Bacchus in the 
vintage, finely composed and modeled, radiant with 
the spirit of Omar Khayyam, — the joy of 

Beaded bubbles winking at the brim. 

The scene from the windows here was fully as lovely: 
the flowered circle with its shining marbles, the majes- 
tic avenue lined by statues, the green, gardened slope 
to the luxuriant valley, the dark hills against the blue 
horizon with their forests of pines. No wonder the 
Venetian patricians loved to linger here, with beauty 
surrounding them both within and without.' 



VILLA GIACOMELLI 

The grandiose hall, the whole sumptuous villa, 
are a brilliant exemplar of that old courtly life of 
gay villeggiatura; also — I thought, as I wended my 
way back to Treviso — of the utter artificiality of 
the Renaissance society of the decadence, when the 
elaborate social forms and ceremonies were as hollow 
as the stucco imitations roundabout. Then did men 
forget that underlying first principle upon which true 
art must stand, upon which had been erected the fab- 
ric of its glory when the Renaissance was young, — 
that principle which Browning has so well expressed: 

It is the glory and the good of Art, 

That Art remains the one way possible 

Of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least.^ 

^ Robert Browning, The Ring and the Book. 



CHAPTER VII 

FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 

We've sent our souls out from the rigid north, 
On bare white feet which would not print nor bleed. 
To climb the Alpine passes, and look forth 
Where booming low the Lombard rivers lead 
To gardens, vineyards, all a dream is worth. 

— Mrs. Browning, Casa Guidi Windows. 

Northward, along the great highway of the centuries, 
laid deep and lasting by Roman arms, the highway 
plodded over by such countless caravans of merchants, 
on their way to and from the countries of the north 
and east, the highway tramped by so many imperial 
armies on their march to Thrace and Syria, by so 
many barbaric hosts on their way to the mastery of 
Rome, — Alaric with his Visigoths, Attila with his 
Huns, Theodoric with his Ostrogoths, Alboin with his 
Lombards; — what would all those myriads have 
thought, in what deadly fear would those conquerors 
have fallen prostrate, could they have beheld this giant 
demon of steel and fire that whirled me over their 
storied route! 

Here was the mile-wide bed of the dashing Piave, 
which used to hold their legions in check a month or 
more, when its spring flood burst from the confining 
mountains over the helpless plain, — now a huge desert 
of cobbles and boulders shining brightly in the sun, 
over which the train crawled carefully on shaky spans, 
finding to-day naught of that hurtling deluge, but a 
peaceful little stream meandering through the stones.^ 

^ The great problem of the Veneto has ever been the confining to one 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 225 

On its farther side the Alpine wall loomed closely 
now, upon the left, sweeping from southwest to the 
far northeast, faced by gentler, tree-clad hills, that 
gleamed with villages and castles. On one of those 
smiling heights edging the plain there stood, I knew, 
the grand old castle of S. Salvatore, rendered famous 
by the brush of Pordenone; the highway bent west- 
ward to it, through the adjacent village of Susegana, 
which lay in a dell hidden from my sight. But stead- 
ily, as we ran on, the train approached the base of the 
hills, and in a few miles came against it, at the station 
of Conegliano. I disembarked, deposited my luggage 
at the parcel-room, and emerged into a stately, tree- 
lined avenue leading straightaway west to the massed 
buildings of the town, surmounted by a height with 
a ruined castle. 

There stands an ancient castle 
On yonder mountain-height. 
Where, fenced with door and portal. 
Once tarried steed and knight.^ 

It was a beautiful vista: over the white walls and 
red roofs rose ponderous old campanili; over them all 
mounted the steep hillside, its vineyards unbroken but 
for the battlemented wall climbing on the left from one 
shattered tower to another; and adjacent to the grim 
keep of the castle, surrounded by the sentinel spires 
of tall cypresses, glistened a villa with a classic, col- 
course of these numerous rivers across the plain; whose flooded onrush, 
in the steep and comparatively short descent between the Alps and the 
sea, not only carried into the latter the washed soil of the mountains, but 
swept away the precious earth of the level, leaving behind only a desert of 
broken rock. Modern engineering science has succeeded in binding them 
with mighty dikes, whose summits have continually to be raised, as the 
beds of the streams rise year by year. Even then, breaks and disastrous 
washouts often occur, in times of unusual rain, spreading desolation over 
large tracts of country. 

^ Translated from Goethe by Aytoun and Martin. 



226 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

umned fagade. As I gazed, I thought of the stormy 
ages that had rolled over this little, out-of-the-way, 
but important city. 

Conegliano, as I have said, was always the junction 
of the two great highways to the north and east, and 
therefore a link in the chain of communication that 
no power would ignore. She was a fortress, perched 
upon this battlemented hill, controlling the traffic of 
the two routes at her will. In the ages of Rome's de- 
cline she suffered the perils of her location, in siege 
and sack and destruction by the passing invaders, 
over and over, — another little section of those bar- 
baric horrors that never were written in detail and 
man will never know. In the succeeding Middle Ages, 
she rested long under the hard yoke^ of the Trevisan 
Republic, and was then successively taken by Ezzelino, 
the Delia Carrara, and Delia Scala, — until, along 
with Treviso and the rest of the Marches, she found 
rest and safety in the bosom of the Serene Republic. 

Venice then rebuilt the castle that overlooked the 
town, and re-strengthened the protecting walls that 
crept down from it to envelop the buildings at the foot 
of the slope, installing a podestd that governed hence- 
forth, from a seat more commanding than in any other 
of her towns save Brescia. In the following century 
the artist was born who did more to make Conegliano 
known than all the incidents of her history. Gian 
Battista Cima was a boy in those very streets before 
me, under the shadow of the great fortress of the 
podestd which made such a lasting impression upon his 

1 That the yoke of Treviso over the Marshes was hard, we find by such 
entries as this in the annals of Friuli: " In 1164 war is begun upon Treviso 
by the league of the Coneglianesi with Ceneda and with Ottone, Bishop 
of Belluno, protected by Valdarico, the Patriarch of Aquileia, who ex- 
horted them to free themselves from obedience to the Trevisans." — F. di 
Manzano's compilation of the Annali del Friuli. (Author's trans.) 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 227 

mind; but the impression of the Alpine peaks was 
stronger still, and when he had wandered to Venice 
in search of artistic learning, drawn by the marble 
city like steel to a magnet, those gentle pictures which 
he soon began to produce under the influence of Gian 
Bellini, full of golden tones and pietistic peace, carried 
always in their backgrounds the line of his native hills. 

Thence did the Venetians name him Cima, — the 
Italian word for mountain-top, — Cima da Conegli- 
ano. At the mention of that name, what lovely visions 
rise before us, what inspired, holy figures, full of grace 
and dignity, lost in ecstatic contemplations, standing 
in idyllic landscapes, — whose distant towered castle 
with flanking walls was the frowning memory of the 
child. But he dearly loved his native place; — often, 
as time went on, he returned to visit it, and took a 
share in filling its streets with joyous colors on their 
house-fronts. 

"Amongst rude decorations of this kind at Cone- 
gliano we notice a slender neatness and regularity in 
delineations of the human shape, and a reddish tinge of 
flesh, familiar to Cima: yet Cima's productions have 
little else to remind us of local influences, and we are 
at a loss to name an artist in Friuli to whom he owes 
any marked feature of his style." ^ Besides these fres- 
coes, now entirely vanished, he executed for the Duomo 
one of his finest canvases, — a large Madonna and 
Saints, the chief sight and treasure of his city to- 
day. 

The avenue extending from the station was not 
long; and advancing down it I came soon to a wide 
transverse thoroughfare along the base of the hill, 
faced upon the east side with three- and four-storied 
stuccoed buildings of modern appearance, containing 

' Crowe and Cavalcaselle. 



228 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

shops and caffes. Upon its west side stretched gardens 
of shrubbery and flowers, some twenty-five yards in 
width, backed by closely set, rear walls of dwellings, 
of even height; and these curved gently with the 
street line as it swept to north and south, circling 
with the foot of the hill. Then the truth broke sud- 
denly upon me: this was the line of the vanished city 
wall, that once stood with its moat upon the ground 
now covered by these gardens, — leaving the houses 
that had risen just within the wall as the present 
demarcation of the ancient burg. Directly before me, 
looking down the road to the station, where once had 
opened the main gateway of the fortress, now opened 
a corresponding entrance through the line of old build- 
ings, — a wide, deep, shadowy passage beneath them, 
entered by a triple archway, and approached by a 
cement-flagged promenade. 

Through this modern gateway, and up and down 
this main street that formerly had been but a road 
outside the fortification, throngs of people were con- 
tinually passing; it was a very busy scene, enlivened 
further by bicycles and crowds of peasants' vehicles. 
Over the roofs of the wall of houses, to the left, rose 
one ancient touch, — a huge, heavy, Romanesque 
campanile, with a belfry of three arches, capped by a 
pointed Byzantine cupola, speaking of countless age 
in every line and crumbling stone; it was — as I soon 
learned — the campanile of the Cathedral. Far higher, 
behind it, soared the green slope of the hill, to the 
great, black donjon glowering down still as when the 
podestd kept watch from it over the city and plain. 

I approached and traversed the gateway, coming 
out within upon the central piazza of the old town, a 
fair-sized, stone-paved, empty space, burning fiercely 
in the sun, — once pleasingly named after their great 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 229 

man, Cima, now weighted with the appellation of 
Venti Settembre. On its left rose a mass of old houses, 
hiding the side of the Duomo; on its right, the little 
Palazzo Municipale, with a loggia on the ground floor, 
of Renaissance design and some attempt at grace; but 
the chief edifice looked down from the elevated rear 
side, — a monumental, ponderous structure of decad- 
ent Renaissance style, with heavy, bare wall-spaces 
and classic pediments, partly Greek in effect, partly 
Egyptian. The wide main body of it had two lofty 
divisions, — plain, stuccoed basement and piano 
nobile; in its centre there projected well forward and 
to the height of a third story a massive pavilion, hold- 
ing on its first floor as the building's chief feature a 
large loggia, whose two middle supports were detached 
caryatids of mammoth size and ugliness. Before the 
three square windows of its third story stood plaster 
statues, copies of the antique; at the ends of the main 
body were two slight pavilions, adorned on the first 
floor by temple-like constructions, of four heavy pilas- 
ters and pediment, with long windows between the 
central pilasters, before which stood two other heroic 
statues. Other pediments crowned the loggia and cen- 
tral pavilion, and other heavy pilasters of uncouth 
shape framed the first-floor windows; while the three 
doorways of the basement were not framed at all. 
Seldom have I seen anywhere a more extraordinary 
and peculiar design, — so ponderous and clumsy, 
with such a bad mixture of styles ; yet in spite of all, 
retaining a certain nameless dignity and power. 

This curious structure was the town's opera-house; 
and posters were affixed to the walls announcing 
a grand presentation of Carmen for that evening. 
Think of it, — a country place of only ten thousand 
inhabitants, with a huge palace for the housing of 



230 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

their operatic seasons. — O wonderful Italy; — where 
else could be found such a people! 

Adjacent to the gateway on the south, a handsome 
Renaissance dwelling looked across at the theatre, 
.having elegant windows, beautifully cut as to their 
mouldings, and one unusual corner window with a 
balcony very richly sculptured. From the piazza the 
street swept curving to north and south, between tall 
old stuccoed houses, — those on the east side forming 
the inclosing wall; deep, shadowy arcades ran below 
on both sides, and here and there were lingering por- 
tions of the bright frescoes that had once embellished 
the city. To the right I found a number of Renaissance 
palaces, once full of grandeur and noble families, now 
put to common uses, with stables in their ornamental 
cortili. 

Immediately to the south, on the west side of the 
way, rose the Duomo, undistinguishable as to its 
fagade from the rest of the row of buildings, except 
for the abundant frescoes of Old Testament scenes 
between the openings of the upper story; below con- 
tinued the arcade, upon large, plastered, Gothic 
arches; above were a number of double Romanesque 
windows; and the paintings were remarkably pre- 
served, both in lines and colors, affording an excellent 
idea of the appearance of the streets of four centuries 
ago. There were tableaux of the Deluge, King David 
with his harp, and other Judaical incidents, not very 
well drawn but full of bright hues and picturesqueness. 

The interior, which I entered directly from the 
arcade, proved an utter contrast from the aged f agade, 
— an arched nave of Renaissance lines, simple and 
regular, aisles with side chapels, and a deep choir with 
a chapel on each hand. On the last altar to the left I 
found the pala of Cima, — a great glowing group of 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 231 

the Madonna enthroned between St. John, St. An- 
thony, and four others, including two women. The 
splendid tone was much darkened by age, but the 
duskiness perhaps enhanced the grace and solidity 
of the quiet figures, — especially the two lovely girl- 
angels sitting at the foot of the throne and making 
melody. As was so often the case with Cima, no pro- 
nounced feeling nor expression emanated from the 
persons; but there were dreamy atmosphere, soft, har- 
monious coloring, and a pensive, happy restfulness. 
"In the background . . . the models of architecture 
and ornament are taken from the cupola chapels of 
S. Marco; the Virgin's head is of a regular Bellinesque 
type, and the angels . . . seem inspired from those 
of Giovanni Bellini."^ 

In the wall of the chapel to the left of the choir, the 
priests had recently constructed a grotto of imitation 
rock, placed within it a brand-new wax Madonna, and 
hung the sides of it with many silver-gilt hearts; then 
the story was sent abroad that miracles had been 
worked by the figure, and it found countless prompt 
believers, as such yarns always do in Italy. Already 
the Madonna had her throng of devotees, — of whom 
I saw several kneeling before the grotto, — and had 
received a lot of true testimonials and valuable gifts. 

I emerged and walked about the streets for a while, 
looking mainly at the fragments of frescoes on fagades, 
in which Conegliano abounds. The famous old house 
of the Borgo della Madonna was especially interest- 
ing, — a three-storied structure rising on the usual 
arcade, having the spandrils of its arches painted with 
bright pictures, and varied cinquecento tracery over 
the upper stories. The identity of the artist was 
shown by a shield of arms supported by an angel, with 

* Crowe and Cavalcaselle. 



232 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the word "Darius," — the same Dario who worked at 
Treviso. There are, I was told, other paintings inside 
the house; but it was closed and I could not enter. I 
found a number of other old fagades almost as pleas- 
ing, of varied age and excellence, some having mot- 
toes with the pictures ; many were in a state of preserva- 
tion beyond that of other towns, and the figures were 
well modeled for such decorative work, though stiff 
and gaudily colored. 

Finally, returning to the central piazza, I started 
up the narrow way beside the theatre, to climb to the 
castle. After passing the two higher streets parallel 
with the main one, it turned to the left, and mounted 
beside the old wall of circumvallation, steadily and 
steeply, till a chapel was reached near the top, — a 
quaint little old chapel, called the Madonna of the 
Snows; a pretty name, which indicates the severity of 
the winters here. Now the path turned somewhat to 
the right again, between high garden walls, which 
prevented any sight of the classic villa that I had 
observed from below, and brought me to the summit 
at the very foot of the castle wall, in the shadow of 
the great tower looming far into the blue. 

Alas, this tower proved to be all that was left of the 
once powerful fortress. It had been the donjon-keep, 
rising upon the east, or town side, of the quadrangular 
fortification; but of all the rest naught remained ex- 
cept the outline of the quadrilateral, marked by walls 
of the old stones that were but shadows of the original, 
— all around which soared lines of spear-like cypresses. 
The entrance was by a gate in the middle of the north 
side. Within, where formerly had stood around the 
courtyard palatial stone buildings full of the splendor 
of Venetian might, now lay amidst the shadowy 
cypresses only a ruinous graveyard of falling head- 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 233 

stones. Gone were the great halls, the hundreds of 
chambers, the courts, the stables, the battlemented 
walls, the guarding towers, — gone so long that the 
very memory of their centuries of glory had faded 
from the people's minds, and the cemetery which had 
taken their place had fallen to a like decrepitude. 
Even the custodian was an aged, tottering wreck of 
a human being. 

The keep, to whose foot he led me, had been pre- 
served through the superior massiveness of its con- 
struction. Attached to its base lingered also two or 
three ancient chambers, in which the custode dwelt, 
with his family. I climbed the tower, from one square 
loft to another, by ladder-like stairs mounting from 
successive rough-boarded floors to similar ceilings; 
and stopped in one compartment to study some pa- 
pers affixed to the wall. One of these was a complete 
plan of the original fortress, intensely interesting, 
showing every portion and use of the vast structure; 
the others were photogravures of two of Cima's most 
renowned pictures, in whose background were clear 
views of the castle as it looked in his day, — a mighty, 
dark mass of towers and curtains, crowning the sugar- 
loaf hill. 

At the summit a splendid panorama lay spread 
around me, — the city at my feet, the hazy plain 
stretching to indefinite distance, sparkling with white- 
walled farms and villages; the rounded hills upon the 
other side, glowing with cultivated meadows, copses 
of woods, and charming villas, — divided by luxuriant 
vales, and rising gradually to the mountain-peaks, 
bare and serrated. From the red roofs below came the 
rattle of drums, and a chorus of bugles playing a 
lively air, to the march of some unseen company; 
reminding me again of the bloody sword of Mars ever 



234 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

hovering over this lovely landscape. The Teutons 
may come in their legions again, some day, down this 
highway to the richest of all plains, as they have come 
so many times during the centuries. 

Descending, I made the circuit of the walls, by the 
tall dark cypresses, discovering on the south side a 
picturesque modern villa with most attractive garden, 
and at the northwest corner a partly destroyed round 
tower of extraordinary thickness, where once the pow- 
der of the fortress was kept. Outside the walls upon 
the north was an open space once used for the parade, 
where the views of the surrounding vales and hills 
were more uninterrupted than from the keep. To the 
northwest I saw the mountain- wall open like a wedge, 
admitting a valley that crept from the plain far into 
its bosom; that was where I was going, to Ceneda and 
Serravalle at the head of that fair valley. It was the 
old route to Belluno and the north. 

But first there was another trip to be made; and 
returning as I had mounted, to the piazza of Conegli- 
ano, I secured a rig for the modest sum of six francs, 
with a sfeepy boy for a driver, and set out southward 
upon the great highway to Treviso. For once the horse 
was a lively one, — I had bargained for that, — and 
we rattled between the buildings of the modern south- 
ern extension of the town, into a suburb of recent 
upper-class villas, like that I had seen at Treviso, — 
scattered over sunny lawns, with colors that could be 
heard miles away. The road between them, stretching 
straightaway to the southwest as far as the eye could 
reach, was a beautiful vista between giant plane trees, 
which spread their welcome shade overhead and gave 
intermittent glimpses of the lovely hills upon the right. 
What wonderful roads are these of Italy ; this one had 
a surface perfectly curved from the centre down to 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 235 

the draining-ditches on the sides, from which it was 
separated by round granite posts every few yards, — 
a vast expense. It was macadamized as hard as stone, 
doubtless upon the original Roman foundation deep 
below, — twenty centuries old, and as strong as ever; 
and no dust rose from it to disturb the traveler. Every 
one or two hundred yards was a heap of broken stones, 
— material for repair, always kept at hand. An ab- 
solutely perfect highway, — yet no different from the 
others which lead over every Italian township, except 
in these two extraordinary rows of planes, closely 
planted and of tall height, beautiful as a dream, all 
descendants of that one old monarch in the garden of 
Padua. 

Like a dream, too, were the vistas that they afforded 
of the accompanying hills. Backward rose the height 
of the fortress, with its grim tower and columned villa 
and circling spires of cypresses; next it soared a cul- 
tivated mount, then one topped by a castle with com- 
plete, gray, battlemented walls and keep, ensconced in 
luxuriant foliage; and so they stretched on, hill after 
hill, parallel with the road and far away toward the 
mountains, smiling with bright fields, green vineyards, 
and gray olive groves, picturesque with dark patches 
of wood and towered castles, glistening with fair white 
villas amongst the trees, — while ever in the back- 
ground, in contrasting majesty, soared the precipitous 
bare flanks of the Venetian Alps. 

After four or five miles of this delightful scenery we 
came to the little cross-roads village of Susegana, 
scattered with modern houses at the foot of a hill 
that stood somewhat forward and separated from the 
chain. Up this last wound an avenue of shady horse- 
chestnuts, and on its summit stood a castle grander 
than any I had yet beheld. It was S. Salvatore, the 



236 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

famous seat of the great family of the Colalti, possess- 
ors of this village and all the countryside far and wide; 
— one of the few medieval chateaux that still remain, 
intact and occupied, attached to the original name 
and fortune : — 

That old pile, 
Which flanks the cliff with its gray battlements 
Flung here and there, and, like an eagle's nest, 
Hangs in the Trevisan.^ 

The Counts of Colalto, centuries ago, obtained this 
royal residence at the cost of much blood and strug- 
gle, and afterwards fought bravely in the wars of 
Venice; from father to son it has steadily descended 
all these generations, who have manifested such ex- 
ceptional wisdom and prudence that the present 
count still enjoys the estates of his first noble ances- 
tor. Their name itself came from this height where 
they first took residence: "Giovanni di Col-alto" was 
simply "John of the high hill."^ 

At the top of the shady avenue we reached a level 
space just below the walls, surrounded by later dwell- 
ings of the family's retainers, and, at its end, a gate- 
way in the fortification. Here an old servant made 
his appearance, to whom I transmitted my desire; he 
vanished for a while, reappeared, and stated that the 
family were away and the majordomo had therefore 

^ Rogers, Italy. 

2 Of all the blue-blooded families of Europe, the Colalti are, beyond 
question, one of the purest and most ancient, — tracing their line unbrok- 
enly to the sixth century. They were, says Manzoni, "one of the most 
noble and illustrious families that King Alboin (of the Lombards) brought 
with him into Italy; and he left them in Friuli. They are of allied blood 
with the princely house of Brandenburg. Charlemagne confirmed their 
jurisdiction and fief, and his successors did the same. A great number of 
them distinguished themselves, in war and in churchly dignities, and they 
have also been distinguished by their illustrious connections with the 
principal families of Italy." — Annali del Friuli. 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 237 

consented to my seeing the main courtyard and the 
chapel. Once more I was in luck. The old man, court- 
eous in manners, like most servants of high Italian 
houses, led me over the ancient drawbridge, under the 
portcullis, still ready to descend, and up a sloping 
graveled way that wound between the base of the 
castle and the edge of a precipice on the northwest 
side; there had been no danger of attack here, and so 
there was but a small parapet topping the abyss. 
How many generations of gleaming knights and medi- 
eval cavalcades had wound down this same approach, 
with glistening steel and pennons, on destrier and 
palfrey. 

It curved to the west along the summit's western 
edge, passed through another gateway, and entered a 
long, wide, stately court, faced upon the east by a line 
of palatial edifices, four and five stories in height; on 
the right it first jutted out over the precipice into 
a little garden, — commanding splendid views of the 
vale below and the girdling chain of hills, where 
doubtless the ladies were used to sit in the afternoons 
of long ago, — and then was walled in by a quaint lit- 
tle church of simple lines, with its right side upon the 
court. At the opposite end of the flagged area rose 
another palace, faced by a monumental flight of steps 
adorned with statues, at whose head opened a large 
archway closed by handsome iron gates ; and through 
the latter was visible a lovely rose-garden, backed by 
a Renaissance wall surmounted charmingly by a row 
of marble divinities. 

I stopped to enjoy this attractive vista; then exam- 
ined more attentively the buildings on the left. They 
were of several different styles and epochs, not archi- 
tecturally ornate, but fairly proportioned and impos- 
ing; the oldest portion of all the present buildings had 



238 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

been at the north end of this Hne, — so they told me, 
— dating from about 1200, but was only lately entirely 
rebuilt, with the exception of a massive outside stair- 
way of Romanesque days which still led to the main 
doorway in the first floor. The other structures were 
covered upon their extensive stretches of plaster by 
modern frescoing, — designs in grisaille, which had 
rather a tasteful effect. 

The old servant opened the chapel for me, whose 
interior of cracked and crumbling stucco clearly dated 
also from the thirteenth century, and was covered 
from end to end with bright-hued frescoes of different 
ages. It was a joy to my eyes, — a typical private 
chapel of medieval grandees. The little nave was 
filled with the rude benches on which the retainers had 
heard mass for hundreds of years, excepting the space 
in the centre of the right side occupied by the great 
family pew, surrounded by a heavy rectangular rail- 
ing; the seats within the latter were nearly as rude as 
those without, but of course my ladies had always 
cushions carried by their maids. Opposite to this, 
against the left wall, was a stone tomb of some Colalto 
of the time of the Crusades; and another tomb was 
against the end wall, behind the simple high-altar. 

Under this flagged floor, if the legend of Samuel 
Rogers were true, lay long hid from human ken a 
sepulchre of horror, a subterranean vault containing 
the pier in which, hundreds of years ago, the "White 
Lady" who haunted the castle was walled alive. 
Rogers has told the story well in his verses upon 
"Coir Alto": ^ she was a maid, gentle and fair, named 

1 Rogers, Italy. Many critics, T know, consider it to have been a fab- 
rication of the poet, — according to his wont. The incident of the mirror, 
certainly, may have come from the similar legend of the Castello Estense 
at Ferrara. 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 2S9 

Cristine, of a melancholy habit, dressed always in 
spotless white like a nun, and was tiring-woman to 
the countess of her day. The latter, seated one 
evening before her mirror, submitting her hair to the 
ministrations of the maid, bade a farewell to her noble 
lord, who was leaving on a journey; then turning to 
the glass, she caught, as she thought, a reflection 
of — 

A smile, a glance at parting, given and answered. 
That turned her blood to gall. — That very night 
The deed was done. — 

They led her forth, the unhappy lost Cristine, 
Helping her down in her distress — to die. 
No blood was spilt. — Fresh as a flower just blown. 
And warm with life, her youthful pulses playing, 
She was walled up within the castle wall — 
Under the chapel. — There nightly at that hour. 
In her white veil and vesture white she stands 
Shuddering — her eyes uplifted and her hands 
Joined as in prayer; then like a blessed soul 
Bursting the tomb, springs forward, and away 
Flies o'er the woods and mountains. Issuing forth. 
The hunter meets her in his hunting-track; 
The shepherd on the heath, starting, exclaims — 
'T is the White Lady! 

I could not learn that the people of the castle, or 
those of the countryside, believe in the legend, nor 
that any of them have ever beheld the ghost. Rogers 
added that in his day one old retainer, hunting, saw 
it in the morning mists, and was so terrified that he 
never went forth again; also that the very mirror 
which occasioned all the mischief was still to be seen. 

Along the right wall of the chapel, between the win- 
dows, and on the entrance wall over the doorway; ran 
a series of quaint figures and tableaux of the trecento, 
more or less obliterated, with Giottesque saintly heads 
and forms emerging from the ruin here and there, in 
restful, haloed simplicity, — their broad, light hues 



240 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

and gilding commingling in one general, sweet, golden 
tone. But on the left wall — what a contrast ! Over 
its free spaces rioted the huge figures, bold actions 
and high colors of the Late-Renaissance, — bull-like 
. forms of reddish flesh, in long-hose and puffed sleeves, 
energetically enacting scenes from the New Testament, 
— the familiar forms of Pordenone. Here were the 
Magi, Annunciation, Journey to Egypt, Raising of 
Lazarus, and Meeting with the Magdalen. On the 
rear wall was the last Judgment; on the rear portion 
of the right wall, St. Jerome, and the Salutation of 
Elizabeth; and on the ceiling, the four Evangelists. 
They were badly injured, and did not seem well com- 
posed, nor of much expression or feeling; but they were 
of course quite decorative, and finely modeled, with 
individual figures of considerable grace. The form 
of the Madonna was always sweet and attractive; and 
the Flight into Egypt showed somewhat more merit 
than the rest. But I was disappointed by their wretched 
condition, which hindered any decent appreciation. 

It was, for these paintings I had come, but that 
which proved of far more enjoyment was the visit 
which I now paid to the castle proper; the majordomo 
yielded to my persuasions, and opened the sacred 
precincts. Penetrating the eastern buildings by a 
passage in the ground floor, I found on their farther 
side, above the ramparts, a long narrow garden of ex- 
ceeding loveliness, — beds of flowers, and fine shrubs, 
with geometrically winding paths; a stone circular 
fountain adorned its centre, filled with goldfish, and 
an enormous yew tree of great age shaded its northern 
end. The plastered walls of the castle looked down 
with hues as gay as the flowers, — frescoes of gods 
and goddesses and cherubs, floating upon clouds, in 
the high flesh-tints of Pordenone; queer designs, of 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 241 

no discernible aims, and not especially attractive. 
Most pleasing of all was the view, from the garden 
parapet, of the grounds below; thick trees swept 
around with the circling enceinture of the castle walls 
at twenty to thirty yards' distance, hiding the outer 
battlements and the rest of the hill, and forming a 
pleasant screen for the privacy of the noble family; 
and within them, ten yards or so below, lay another 
beautiful garden, shining like a jewel-case, with hand- 
some palms and orange and lemon trees. Over the 
waving tops of the surrounding foliage was visible 
the wide luxuriant plain, stretching into the hazy 
distance. 

From this idyllic scene, I stepped through a door- 
way near the yew into the main hall of the castle, in 
the renovated wing. A magnificent white stpne stair- 
way in three divisions led to the upper hall, which 
opened grandly on the staircase well; the ascent was 
commanded by a life-size portrait of a dignified elderly 
gentleman, with a small white beard, and features of 
much pride and benevolence. It was the present Count 
Colalto, who, they told me, did not belie his counten- 
ance, being a man of exemplary kindness, and well 
beloved;^ he and his family were at present at their 
palace in Vienna, where they spend most of their time, 
' — visiting the castle only during the summer months 
and late autumn. He has other palaces at Gratz, 
Paris, Venice, Rome, and the Riviera, which also ab- 
sorb much of his leisure. Such is the life of a modern 
nobleman of wealth. The upper hall was richly de- 
corated, in contrast to the bare, polished, stone walls, 

^ The Count exempliSes that hereditary virtue which has enabled his 
long line to continue so well the family health, possessions, and dignities. 
His benevolence is both deep and practical, being shown in model dairies, 
factory buildings, etc., upon his different estates, — one of which I saw at 
the foot of the hill, on my departure. 



242 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

with old rugs, vases, tapestries, and paintings; among 
the latter being a lovely, early quattrocento panel of 
the Madonna adoring her Child, and two good can- 
vases, dated 1494 and 1510, by little-known artists, 
one of them including a Madonna of extraordinary 
beauty. The furniture was worthy of inspection, being 
fine, modern, Venetian imitations of carved medieval 
chairs and settees ; so that the whole salon was a per- 
fect reproduction of a castle hall of the Middle Ages. 
Near by I was shown a room that was a delightful 
example of the trecento, — its walls completely cov- 
ered with light, Giottesque frescoes, the beams of its 
wooden ceiling painted with designs, the furniture all 
careful imitations of that period. I was not admitted 
to the other buildings of this row, where the family 
and. their guests dwell, but learned that the rooms 
were decorated and furnished in various styles of the 
past two centuries, and contained a number of valu- 
able old masters. They took me to the edifice at the 
end of the courtyard, which dates from the sixteenth 
century, «,nd is now little used. On its first floor front 
was the Salle d'Armes, composed entirely of arms and 
armor used by the Colalti and their followers in the 
wars of the Renaissance period, — bearing the dents 
of the blows of sword and musket-ball, and other ev- 
idences of long use. Amongst every kind of medieval 
implement, especially interesting were the battle- 
axes and truncheons, which few men of to-day could 
wield, the engraved corselets, the curious early com- 
binations of spear and pistol (the latter set in the 
shaft), the long narrow bronze cannons, the clumsy 
arquebuses and other primitive guns, and the com- 
plete equestrian suits of mail upon mounted knightly 
figures. But what made them all of an interest far 
beyond that of such collections in museums, was the 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 243 

knowledge that they had stood the brunt of many a 
battle, upon the shoulders and in the hands of the men 
who had lived in this same castle, — the ancestors of 
those here to-day. 

On the ceiling of the well of the grand staircase lead- 
ing to this hall I saw a large round fresco by Tiepolo, 
in his usual airy manner, and in the disused chambers 
at the side, other examples of his work, amidst profuse 
decorations in the Pompeian style. From the last 
room a door admitted me to the terrace above the 
rear of the charming rose-garden, and to the company 
of its rows of statues ; thence there was another beauti- 
ful view, of the tree-lined battlements below, the 
ordered gardens adjacent to them on the slope with- 
out, which seemed to girdle the whole enceinture with 
their flowered walks, — and the lustrous vale and smil- 
ing hills upon the south. What a perfect elysium was 
this castle in the air, richer than a castle in Spain be- 
cause endowed with the glorious dome and caressing 
sun of Italy, — the embodied realization of one's fond- 
est fancies, lovelier than any dream in its circling flow- 
ered terraces and shady groves, suspended above this 
enchanting landscape, thrilling with its countless 
memories of centuries of history and ancestral associ- 
ations! It will linger with me ever, as one of the 
happiest remembrances of my life. 

I returned to Conegliano by the stately avenue of 
planes, stopping for a few minutes at the parish church 
of Susegana to see its altar-piece, which is a pietistic 
tableau by Pordenone, in better preservation and 
pleasingly effective; and by five o'clock I was again 
rolling northward on a train, into that extensive valley 
that penetrates like a wedge the Alpine wall, to the 
foot of the Col Vicentin. The track followed the west- 
ern side of the vale, along the slopes rising near at 



244 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

hand, until a height, jutting far into the plain like a 
peninsula, rose before our path and sent us curving 
round its headland. Looking up to its long summit, I 
saw near the end three separate old castles perched 
upon it, two of them in far advanced and picturesque 
ruin, the third still strong with towers and battle- 
ments and shining casements. At the foot of the de- 
clivity, upon the level, here somewhat narrowed be- 
tween the headland and the opposite wall, glistened 
the red roofs of many houses, whose white fagades and 
campanili flocked about us as we slowed to a stop. 
A neighbor informed me that this was Ceneda, that 
the surviving castle overhead was inhabited by its 
bishop, and the larger of the ruined ones had been 
that of the medieval seigneurs.^ 

There is always a reason for the existence, or loca- 
tion, of an Italian town; and I saw at once how Ce- 
neda had first come into being, — because of this neck 
through which the highway of the North was forced, 
commanded of old by the fortress on the height. Be- 
yond it, when we resumed our course, the level ground 
opened wide again, into a basin that was a glowing 
treasure-house of richest fields and vineyards, and 
prosperous dwellings lining shady roads. It was excep- 
tionally luxuriant, even for Italy, being protected 
from cold winds by the enfolding mountains, which 
narrowed soon again as we proceeded to the end; and it 

^ The Conti di Ceneda are another very ancient and illustrious family, 
of Lombard origin; being descended from a certain Count Giovanni, to 
whom in 739 King Luitprand granted the fief of Ceneda, together, with 
many others. His descendants devolved the actual government of the 
little city upon its Bishop, as a feudatory, who held sway for centuries, 
until replaced by the family of Camino. The Counts themselves continued 
to occupy the castle on the hill until comparatively modern times, when 
it was suffered to fall to pieces, and they removed to one of their other 
residences; having evidently preserved a part of their possessions through 
all vicissitudes. 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 245 

was thickly settled as one continuous, spreading vil- 
lage. In fact, it is now all one incorporated city, three 
or four miles in length; for the town of Ceneda was 
in the year 1879 joined with that of Serravalle at the 
apex of the valley, forming a total population of 
twenty-two thousand souls, including all the country- 
side between; and it has been renamed as one unit, 
after the liberating King, — Vittorio. 

I descended at the terminal station, to find myself 
still a full mile and more below the ancient burg of 
Serravalle. Wishing to stop at its heart, I disdained 
the temptations of the modern first-class hotel opposite 
the station, where I saw gayly dressed Italians loung- 
ing in pleasant grounds, — a genuine summer-resort, 
— and taking an omnibus, was ported up the long 
straight highway to the head of the vale, where clus- 
tered thickly the tall old houses of the original town, 
within their medieval walls. We entered the walls by a 
four-storied, battlemented, stone and stucco gateway, 
which was also the municipal clock- and bell-tower, 
and over whose battlements loomed imposingly the 
vast mountain-sides ahead, black with forests. Within, 
the highway became a narrow medieval street, dark- 
ened by picturesque stuccoed dwellings rising upon 
arcades, and finally debouched into the town's 
piazza, just beyond the inn which I was seeking. 

It was a typical country hostelry, of the third class, 
entered by a dark driveway under the arcade, with 
the eating-rooms on the left of the passage, and the 
kitchen in the rear beside the stable-yard. The boni- 
face, who proved a very agreeable man and most 
anxious to please, led me to one of the two front 
chambers on the first floor, which was meagrely furn- 
ished with an iron bed and washstand, an old wooden 
dresser, and single chair; but it had the chief desidera- 



246 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

turn, — clean linen, — and was certainly cheap at the 
price, a franc and a quarter. I settled my belongings, 
and walked out again to the street and the near-by 
piazza. 

The high old stuccoed houses changed their simple 
dress as they approached this centre of the town, to 
an ornateness that surprised me, — displaying fine 
Renaissance windows and balconies, and Gothic de- 
tails still more pleasing. On the left of the opening of 
the square, I was arrested by a Gothic palace of mag- 
nificent design: above a colonnade of pointed arches 
rose a piano nohile of colonnaded Gothic windows 
stretching clear across the fagade, upon marble shafts 
with elaborate foliage-capitals; two lights larger than 
the others occupied the centre, opening upon a lovely 
Gothic marble balcony; in the third story were two 
single windows, and one quadruple, of similar form; all 
of them were slightly ogive, and decorated upon the 
tip of the point with little vase-like reliefs; while at 
the summit this delightful construction was crowned 
by a well-proportioned cornice. Here the piazza ex- 
panded easterly from the street, which kept straight 
on along the left flank of a hill that loomed up in the 
very apex of the vale; from the eastern end of the 
square another street led up a defile, passing the hill 
on that side; and over the height between them 
extended a whole section of the ancient town. 

Very soon the situation was made clear to me: here 
was the oldest, original quarter of Serravalle, perched 
upon this eminence that blocked the pass to the north; 
— a better medieval position could hardly be con- 
ceived. After the earliest days the town had crept 
down into the valley, eventually forming its central 
piazza out of what had doubtless been at first its 
market-place outside the southern walls. The square 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 247 

was surrounded by three- and four-storied, stucco 
buildings of Renaissance times, with goodly stone bal- 
conies and columned windows above the ground-floor 
colonnades, — except at the eastern end, where it was 
flanked by a dashing stream; over this a short stone 
bridge led to another open space beside the large 
Cathedral. The latter was of ugly, bare, plastered 
walls, with its entrance door apparently in its apse, 
westward turned, before which from the very bank of 
the stream rose the heavy detached campanile, — • 
also plastered, and terminating in an octagonal lan- 
tern and red-tiled spire. But that which gave to the 
whole piazza a dignity and picturesqueness of excep- 
tional strength, was the towering closely, upon its 
three sides, of the mighty, precipitous mountain-walls, 
which loomed far overhead, with rocky crags and 
black, wooded summits, hemming in the shadowed 
vale like a canyon. Strange indeed was this effect, 
of xA.lpine grandeur and wildness glowering down upon 
the very roofs of a town-square. 

On the left hand, perched upon one precipitous crag, 
sat the ruins of a gray stone building, said to have been 
a castle of the Counts of Ceneda, by which they 
guarded the precious northern road and exacted heavy 
toll from the passing travelers. Well underneath it, 
extensive landslides had scarified the mountain's face, 
and made the scene more awesome; and just at its 
foot, in the piazza's northwestern angle, sat the pic- 
turesque old Palazzo Municipale, a quaint relic of 
the trecento. A deep, shadowy loggia occupied its 
ground floor, behind three round arches on Gothic 
marble columns; over the centre of the latter was the 
ringhiera, with a Gothic marble balustrade, and on 
each side of it a charming triple window of trefoil 
arches; while beside the palace rose a curious old tow^r 



248 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

upon a pointed archway, capped 'by a Renaissance 
belfry, and covered, on its falling plaster, with many 
shields of bygone syndics or podestas. The remains of 
the Venetian Lion still lingered over the ringhiera; 
and upon the walls of the loggia shone the softened 
colors of fragments of old frescoes, including a group 
of Madonna and Saints that were still quite decorative. 

Of the history of Serravalle and Ceneda, of which 
this building formed a part, it is only necessary to say 
that it followed that of Conegliano;^ and of their art, 
that they never produced any good painter, except 
Jacopo da Valentina, who studied under the early 
Vivarini of Venice, was a follower of Squarcione and 
Crivelli, and became more known for his severe mould- 
ing than for grace or coloring. Dario painted their 
house-fronts; and Basaiti the Venetian, Francesco da 
Milano, Carpaccio, and Amalteo, the pupil of Porde- 
none, came to aid in adorning their churches. The 
last-named is alleged by Crowe and Cavalcaselle to 
have been the author of these frescoes of the town 
loggia. Bjit greatest of all the stranger artists who 
decorated the twin cities was Titian; his daughter 
married and resided here, and he was used to stop over 
with her, on his trips to Pieve, for weeks and months 
at a time. On some such occasions he painted the two 
wonderful canvases which have beautified and made 
famous the two cathedrals. 

It was still light enough to see the interior of Serra- 
valle's Duomo, — which I remember as a well-pro- 
portioned, rather pleasing edifice with an elevated 
choir; it contained some of Amalteo's highly colored, 

^ The possession of the Conti di Ceneda was interrupted by the ambitious 
Trevisans about the beginning of the twelfth century. Against their pre- 
tensions the Cenedese repeatedly rebelled, often with bloody battles and 
reprisals, until Ezzeliao laid his iron hand upon the Marches. 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 249 

highly energetic work, and formerly a canvas of Car- 
paccio's, which I could not find; but dwarfing all else 
was the great Titian on the choir-wall. It is dated 
1547, and represents the Madonna between Saints 
Peter and Andrew, — a grand tableau, dignified, 
almost majestic, toned like a reverberating bronze bell 
of deep, inspiring note, glowing with the master's 
splendid, harmonious hues; — the kind of harmony 
at which one gazes and gazes, till he is lost in its golden 
atmosphere of celestial peace, thrilled with the lofty 
impulses that radiate from the holy faces. 

Em.erging into the dusk of eventide, and returning 
to the inn, I enjoyed an excellent dinner in which the 
'piece de resistance was a plate of those poor little birds 
that the hunters shoot by the myriad, — beccaficchi, 

— whose tiny bodies do not yield a mouthful apiece; 

— and yet the people wonder why their crops are 
being every year more destroyed by insects, and vainly 
march forth statues of the Madonna to disperse the 
pests. I was fed in solitary state at a separate table 
in the rear; and found much diversion in the doings 
of a crowd of peasants who seemed to be celebrating 
the festa of some friend. Though they drank only 
wine, they became quite intoxicated, and then loudly 
displayed their histrionic abilities, till the place was 
a perfect bedlam. But my sleep afterwards was easy, 
on the always comfortable Italian bed; and early in 
the morning I was again in the piazza, rejoicing in the 
inspiration of the fresh mountain air. 

This time I pushed on beyond, by the main street, 
along the west base of the hill, until I finally passed 
through an aged gateway in the northern city wall, 
and found the valley opened out again, rich and lovely, 
between the close-confining mountain flanks. On 
through this charming dale ran the white highway, 



250 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

toward the peaks of the Col Vicentin looming grimly 
ahead, — on to Belluno, and the majestic beauties of 
the gorge of the Piave. I returned to town by the 
diverging way around the hill's eastern base, passing 
quarries high up on the terraces of the mountain, mills 
along the plunging waters of the stream, and ter- 
raced gardens of old palaces, suspended on the hill- 
side in faded grandeur. 

In the first portion of this pleasant walk, the out- 
ward progress, I observed near the northern city wall 
an old church of Gothic times, — S. Giovanni Bat- 
tista, — whose dusky, worn interior glowed with a 
number of excellent paintings. To chance upon some 
unknown church, and discover a few artistic treasures 
unpublished to the world, is sometimes a pleasure 
greater than would be the finding of a gold nugget in 
an abandoned mine. The good parroco, in a thread- 
bare cassock with the sleeves rolled up, unshaven and 
dirty, was vigorously polishing the silver of the altar 
in the sacristy. A young man of thirty-five, doubtless 
without Jhfluential connections, having obtained no 
better charge than this out-of-the-way parish and its 
ruinous edifice, with few communicants, and poverty 
too severe to permit assistants, he had — as I learned — 
with his own hands restored the building, and recalled 
the allegiance of the people. He told me, simply, how 
he had found a lot of old soiled canvases in the base- 
ment, cleaned them with bread and wine, and hung 
them upon the bare altars and choir-walls. There was 
nothing exceptional about him, — but one must ad- 
mire such loving souls that are not ashamed of hard 
manual lg.bor in the service of good; and there are many, 
many, such poor, devoted, slaving priests in Italy. 

Among his unearthed paintings were four of sur- 
prising merit : two groups of three saints on the first 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 251 

and second altars to the right, by the little known 
Francesco Frizimelaga (signed, dated 1607), of much 
quiet grace, harmonious color, and gentle feeling; a 
splendid example of Jacopo Valentina (signed, dated 
1502), on the first altar to the left, — a panel of the 
Madonna and four Saints, with an especially fine 
figure of the Baptist, displaying Jacopo's rich, deep 
tone and sincerely pietistic qualities, so attractive that 
I stood wondering why his fame is not wider; and 
behind the high-altar, a large Baptism of Christ by 
Francesco da Milano, well disposed and tinted, of 
much expression and power. 

A traveler who happened to be spending some time 
at Serravalle would do well also to look up the paint- 
ings of Basaiti — who has left us so many pleasing 
pictures — at the churches of S. Lorenzo and S. 
Silvestro alia Costa; also the work of Valentina at 
S. Giustina, and that of Jacobello del Fiore in the 
Hospital of S. Lorenzo. 

When I went to Ceneda, it was by the omnibus of 
the inn, in the afternoon hours, down the long straight 
highway as far as the railroad station, and thence on 
foot the remaining mile or so, through streets lined 
thickly with modern-looking dwellings and shops, 
with the fields behind the latter open and cultivated. 
The long space of the valley between the original 
towns has thus been covered in recent times, in a curi- 
ous combination of stretches of open country, village 
streets, and scattered clusters of habitations, with 
occasional handsome grounds about gaudy villas; the 
largest of these clusters being naturally around 
the station, opposite to whose ornate stone terraces 
stretch various beautiful lawns with stately shade 
trees. On arriving in old Ceneda, at the foot of its 
castled promontory, successive directions from passers- 



252 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

by brought me safely through its winding ways to the 
main piazza; which Kes at the southern base of the 
headland, beneath the medieval mansion of its bishop. 

The latter's cathedral fronts upon the piazza's 
eastern end, — a great, plain, stuccoed structure; on 
its north side is the little Municipio, with the proverb- 
ial loggia; and before it extends the long, dirt-paved 
area, between separate three-storied buildings, to the 
wall and terraced gardens of the Marchesa Costantini, 
at the western end. These, famed far and wide in a 
land of beautiful gardens, raise over the wall mighty 
elms and beeches that allow but a glimpse of the 
handsome villa in their bosom, and stretch afar up 
the slope of the mountain, here curved to the south, 
in a luxuriance of copses, shady paths, and areas of 
shrubs, flowers, and exotic plants, surpassing descrip- 
tion. At the far summit stands a temple of classic 
lines, looking down with its noble white portico over 
the riotous verdure below. 

I stepped first into the Duomo, which opened to me 
a spaciotis nave of simple Renaissance lines, lower 
aisles with shallow chapels, a transept adorned by a 
pompous dome, and a large choir elevated above an 
ancient crypt. Its Renaissance renovation makes it 
look unlike an edifice which has played the great part 
that it has in this people's history; — the bishop and 
his canons having been foremost, through all the 
centuries, in every public advancement, and equally so 
in the development of art; as they were the medium 
by which several foreign artists came to Ceneda, — 
called to embellish the walls and altars of the Duomo. 
Here then were the chief relics of those long-gone 
visits, the main objets d'art of the twin cities, — their 
collection of paintings. 

Amongst the throng of them that shone from altar- 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 253 

tops and wall-spaces were, firstly, a Coronation of the 
Virgin by Jacobello del Fiore (about 1408), primitive 
and quaintly graceful; secondly, two superb works of 
Jacopo Valentina, — of whom his town may well be 
proud. These were a Madonna with Saints Anthony 
and Sebastian, second to the left (signed, 1510), dis- 
playing a little donor at the bottom ; and a Madonna 
with Saints Biasio and John the Baptist, and donor, 
fourth to the right, showing a rich marble throne, 
with a clear blue sky behind it dotted by fleecy clouds, 
and also two charming little ])utti-heeids ; both pictures 
were highly finished and deeply toned, of attractive 
coloring and atmosphere, with Madonna figures of 
remarkable beauty. 

Less in importance were the two Palma Gio vanes; 
— a Baptism of Christ, first to the left, having a good 
form of the Baptist, — not emaciated, for once, — 
with a dazzling angel holding the Saviour's garment; 
and a risen Christ, in the chapel to the left of the choir, 
of Palma's characteristic vaulting type, to me rather 
displeasing. In the sacristy were two small Tiepolos, 
one of them a Crucifixion of considerable power of 
expression. But far and away beyond all the others, 
beyond any painting that I had seen since leaving 
Venice, was the large and marvelous picture that 
greeted me in the third chapel to the right, astounding 
me by the unexpectedness of such a find, and the 
grandeur of its beauty. I had received no warning that 
a great masterpiece remained here; it is mentioned in 
none of the guidebooks; and the coming thus suddenly 
upon its dramatic loveliness was an experience not to 
be forgotten. 

It was one of those rare, great works that at the first 
glance speak in trumpet-tones to the mind and heart, 
a vivid, realistic, yet idyllic tableau, of exceptional 



254 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

force and feeling, radiating power and loveliness and 
intense expressiveness combined; it glowed with a 
profound internal radiance that made the scene celes- 
tial, and a deep iridescence of gorgeous coloring, that 
fell upon the soul like a burst of stately melody from 
a pealing organ; it was mantled in shadowy atmo- 
sphere, through which the piercing light touched 
every salient form with glory, — and held speaking, 
living figures, of perfect lifelikeness, and superhuman 
beauty. 

The idea of the picture was simple and time worn, 
its setting-forth most poetical and enchanting. It 
exemplified perfectly the loftiness of genius, — which 
conceives an everyday theme in terms of grandeur, 
moulds it in a novel, fascinating shape, and strikes fire 
from its spirited feeling to the heart of the observer. 
This was, then, only a tableau of the Madonna en- 
throned between Saints Roch and Sebastian, standing 
at her sides; but to the right and rear of the canopy 
that sheltered them, stretched a countryside of vivid 
tragedy, wild and fearsome in the shrouding pall of 
•night, whose heavy, murky atmosphere wrapped every 
object in indefinable awesomeness. Over this wild 
scene lowered a turbulent, black sky with rolling 
masses of storm-clouds, menacing and advancing, 
appearing to hold in their turbid depths thunderbolts 
straining at the leash; while all Nature ceased its 
breath in that dread silence before the elements' 
explosion. The coming peril was made manifest by a 
touch of gentle light from the hidden moon, silvering 
the inky clouds' lower edges above the distant hori- 
zon, accentuating with its peaceful ray the terrible 
wrathfulness of the storm; but the striking, purposed 
contrast was in those gathered saintly figures, serene 
and lovely, whose faces, expressive of heavenly calm 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 255 

and holy thought, were Hfted to the Eternal with no 
fear of what earth could do. 

Such grandeur of tone and chiaroscuro, such incom- 
parable power and grace united, such a combination 
of all the potentialities of the brush, — but one genius 
that ever lived in this North Italy could have accom- 
plished them; — it was Tiziano. This was Titian's 
second masterpiece executed for the twin cities; and I 
will say truthfully, having studied nearly all his works, 
that to me it seems one of the two or three greatest 
of them all. It may not make upon all others the same 
profound impression, — it cannot; people are too 
varied in tastes; — but from me that impression has 
never departed, — has lingered as a steadfast, sub- 
lime glory; and to any true lover of painting, its appeal 
must be worth the whole journeying through the towns 
of Venetia. 

Previtali, that splendid artist of Bergamo who at- 
tained the nearest of them all to pure, unalloyed 
beauty, painted for this same cathedral about the 
year 1500 an Annunciation, which Titian is reported 
by Ridolfi to have much admired; but I could not find 
it, and the sacristan asserted no knowledge of it. So 
I finished my visit by gazing at the fine old Gothic 
bishop's chair, attractively carved, with inset niches 
containing wooden statuettes, — and at the model of 
the proud new fagade now planned for the Duomo, 
set against the first pillar to the left; then I crossed the 
sunny piazza to the Palazzo Municipale. 

This curious Renaissance structure is of two stories: 
a ground-floor loggia behind five arches on square 
brick pillars, slightly elevated and approached by 
marble steps; and an upper, stuccoed division contain- 
ing three double-arched stone windows, — the central 
one being the customary ringhiera, with balcony, and 



256 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

a ruined Venetian Lion overhead. I entered the deep 
loggia, noticing upon its walls damaged portions of 
extensive frescoes in the manner of Pordenone. There 
had been three large pictures. On the left wall re- 
mained a group of life-size persons, with a cluster of 
houses perched above them on a rock, crowded with 
people in the windows and balconies, — realistic, 
very substantial people, in gay cinquecento costumes; 
on the rear wall was a cortege of heroic cavaliers and 
foot-soldiers emerging from a city gate, passing a poor 
woman seated by the roadside with a youth's head in 
her lap, all backed by a wide landscape of a valley 
hemmed by rolling mountains, in excellent perspective; 
on the right wall was another city gate, framing a vista 
of palatial buildings, — also a monarch seated upon 
his throne, surrounded by courtiers. These were but 
fragments of the original scenes, which doubtless por- 
trayed incidents in the life of some saint; but they 
were vividly realistic and tangible, of dignified action 
and strong expression, and very impressive in their 
throngs of brilliantly costumed figures. The work was 
strong enough for Pordenone's own; but the artist 
was his pupil, Pomponio Amalteo. It was a most un- 
usual painting for a public place, a veritable curiosity, 
— and a good example of what fine work Amalteo 
could do. 

I continued up the piazza to the gateway at its end 
into the Costantini grounds, sent in my visiting-card 
to the Marchesa, and was graciously permitted to 
walk about under the guidance of the head gardener. 
The villa, an elaborate modern structure, stood on the 
level, surrounded closely by flower-beds, shrubberies, 
gravel paths, and clumps of great trees, with the stables 
and garage shortly to the right. Immediately behind 
these buildings commenced the hillside, which mounted 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 257 

steadily afar in one luxuriant thicket of horticulture, 

— an indescribable, orderly tangle of glades of rare 
and majestic trees, groups of plants of every species, 
indigenous and exotic, and beds of shrubs and flowers 
of a myriad lovely varieties, — with huge greenhouses 
concealed in copses, brilliant with more tender beau- 
ties; while everywhere ran winding paths, — affording 
enchanting glimpses, as they climbed, of the town and 
distant plain and frowning mountains, — leading to 
rustic seats and summer-houses, perched on shady 
knolls. 

Near the summit was a large kiosk, with an unin- 
terrupted view over the tree-tops, where the family 
and their guests were wont to take their tea of after- 
noons; but this famous old Venetian family had lost its 
last male representative on the recent death of the 
Marchese, and must soon disappear. The classic 
stone building at the top proved to be a mausoleum, 

— church above and burial crypt below, — contain- 
ing the remains of the Marchese and others of his 
line. I gazed for a while at the grand panorama 
spread below in the glow of sunset, — the far extended 
white buildings and campanili of Ceneda, the promon- 
tory with its castles, hiding Serravalle from sight, the 
endless plain softly green in the level, golden sun-rays, 
the mighty wall of the Alps stretching indefinitely to 
the northeast; — and I envied for a moment these 
Venetian patricians who have such gardens of Eden 
for their villeggiatura. 

As I looked, the golden rays lifted themselves from 
the ground to the rounded white clouds far aloft, and 
began to color them with wondrous hues of pink and 
rose and scarlet; then, from the shadows stealing over 
the plain, arose the soft, sweet note of a vesper-bell, — 
then another, of more mellow tone, and a third, still 



258 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

farther distant; till soon they were calling from every 
campanile, far and near, — and the united clamor, 
sweeping over the unbroken level, seemed a fusion of 
all the heart-cries of the desolating centuries. 

Now was the hour that wakens fond desire 
In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful hearts 
Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell; 
And pilgrim newly on his road, with love 
Thrills, if he hear the vesper-bell from far. 
That seems to mourn for the expiring day.^ 

There are two other delightful excursions to be 
made from Serravalle, — in the mountains near at 
hand, each readily covered within the light of a single 
day : one, to the famous castle of Brandolin on Monte 
Cisone, — a magnificent old stronghold, finely situ- 
ated and decorated; the other, to the celebrated forest 
on a wide tableland near the Col Vicentin, that be- 
longed to the Venetian State, and was thence called 
the Bosco del Consiglio. The Republic used it for 
piles to sustain the marble city, and in the building 
of her ships, for which it furnished for centuries excep- 
tional masts and spars. It is a wild, untenanted, 
mysterious tract of mountain country, of lofty, ghost- 
like forest glades, and beautiful vistas of the peaks on 
one hand, the far-stretching plain below on the other. 

Early one morning I returned down the valley by 
its branch railroad to the junction of Conegliano, and 
took the main line eastward, leading to Udine and the 
end of the plain. Now I entered the region called 
Friuli, — the corner between the slopes of the Julian 
Alps and the lagoons, — thinking, as the train sped on, 
of all that I had read concerning its woods and wild- 
ness, its aloofness and peculiar people, its countless 
sorrows under the invader's heel, and its long, pathetic 

^ Gary's translation of Dante, Purgatorio, canto viii. 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 259 

retardation in civilization and art. As we left the Tre- 
visan Marches behind, the Alps receded, and the plain 
assumed a different aspect. An extraordinary num- 
ber of large swift streams dash across it from the 
mountains, bearing their silt to the bars and salt 
marshes along the coast of the Adriatic, pushing the 
latter farther seaward year by year, ever extending 
the mainland, by the same alluvial process which has 
made it all. Every few minutes we crossed another 
river, — different branches of the historic Livenza, 
flowing insignificant in the present summer drought, 
through winding channels in their wide stony beds; 
but in the melting spring-times and rainy autumns 
they are roaring giants, that hurl along boulders and 
trees from the Alpine slopes, stop the tide of travel, 
and often devastate the fields. In some parts these 
torrents have made beds two to four miles in width, 
covered with the invariable rounded stones, that 
glisten to a far distance in the beating sun.^ 

Where oleanders flushed the beds 
Of silent torrents gravel spread; 
And, crossing, oft we saw the glisten 
Of ice, far up on a mountain head.^ 

All Friuli was densely forested in ancient and medi- 
eval times, — which contributed much to its people's 

^ * Before these streams were confined within their modem dikes, they 
were continually, during the countless centuries, changing their courses 
from one decade to another; which, added to the annual floods, bore every- 
where the best part of the soil into the sea, leaving the plain covered with 
but a thin, poor deposit of earth, impregnated with sand and pebbles and 
scattered over with boulders, fit only for the growth of forests and the 
grazing of cattle. For the same cause the population was ever scanty and 
poor, dwelling apart in the woods from the rest of humanity, and so devel- 
oping that uncouth patois which is still in use. Venice much improved their 
condition; and in modern times there has been a great gain in all directions, 
particularly in the redemption and cultivation of the soil. 
* Lord Tennyson. 



260 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

crudity and peculiar character, — and is still so cov- 
ered with trees as to present the general appearance, 
from a height, of one great wood; they line the roads 
and fields, and stand in more frequent copses than in 
Lombardy. A large extent of the cleared land is so 
regularly covered with water as to be useless for crops ; 
these untilled meadows, the omnipresent streams and 
woods, the absence of frequent habitations, and the 
comparative sparseness of the towns, all joined to give 
the country-side an aspect quite different from the rest 
of Venetia. It was a somewhat desolate, mournful ap- 
pearance, that slowly, inappreciably affected my spirits 
while I stayed in Friuli, — imparted the sensation of 
being far from the Italy I love, and made me long, 
after a week or so, to get away. Ouida well expressed this 
sentiment in her vagrant Pascarel: "All Friuli is sad 
and unlovely; if it were not for the glimpses of the 
Alps away there toward Venice, it would be hateful, 
— that desolate, historic land that had every road of 
it stamped bare by the iron heel of Barbarossa." 

On this first day, however, I descended from the train 
somewhat less than halfway to Udine, at the ancient 
town of Pordenone, which produced the painter of 
that name. It was the Portus Naonis of Roman days, 
was despoiled by Alaric, destroyed by Attila, tramped 
down again by Theodoric and Alboin, seized by the 
Carlovingians, and, after the end of the latters' rule, 
had begun to enjoy a little independence when it be- 
came the prey of the Austrian and Italian despots.^ 

* The earliest Friulan chronicles report the city and its territory to 
have been, during the eleventh and twelfth centuries, in the possession of 
certain " Dukes of Austria and Styria," from whom it passed, in 1222, to the 
powerful Friulan family of Castello, allied to that of Ceneda. From them 
it was forcibly seized, in 1270, by the Patriarch of Aquileia, who during 
those ages claimed the territorial as well as the ecclesiastical rights as far 
west as the river Mincio, and in large part maintained them. Pordenone 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 261 

Its aloofness did not save the city from the common 
fate of the eastern plain-towns : it was reached after, 
and grasped in turn, by the Delia Carrara, the Delia 
Scala, the Visconti, and the Venetians. Under the 
Republic it at last flourished once more, awoke to the 
Renaissance, when this had grown to maturity farther 
south, and developed during the cinquecento its own 
tardy school of painting, which colored its house 
fronts and adorned its churches. From these local 
artists — deprived by their remoteness of the teach- 
ings of the great schools and masters, until Gian 
Bellini's time — emerged one of the two geniuses to 
whom Friuli gave birth, whose success was the more 
remarkable and praiseworthy considering the primi- 
tive conditions of his native art and the smallness of 
his early advantages. 

Giovanni Antonio Licinio (de' Sacchis or de' Cuti- 
celli, according to different authorities upon the fam- 
ily name) was born at Pordenone in 1483, passed there 
his early years, and in his later period of renown and 
wealth often returned there for considerable visits, 
during which he decorated churches and palaces with 
the fruits of his mature powers. While still living as a 
youth under the parental roof he was wounded by his 
brother in a quarrel, and in consequence went away, 
abandoning his family name for the assumed one of 
Regillo. The place to which he first went to study his 
art is alleged by some authorities to have been the small 
school of Castelfranco, but by Ridolfi and others — 

continued to be a bone of contention between the Patriarchs and the Aus- 
trian dukes (the De' Castello having transferred their claim to the Haps- 
burgs) until the Delia Carrara stepped in, toward the end of the trecento. 
Prom them it was seized by Can Grande della Scala; and from his weak 
successor, Mastino II, it was taken by the Visconti, — so that for a few 
years this district formed a part of the immense kingdom of Gian Galeazzo. 
Upon his death it was occupied by Venice. 



262 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

which opinion is accepted by Lanzi — to have been the 
neighboring city of Udine, where he acquainted him- 
self with the extraordinary productions of that other, 
preceding, great painter of FriuH, Pellegrino da San 
Daniele. Subsequently ( or as Rinaldi states, in the 
first place) he journeyed to Venice and became a 
worker in the studio of Giovanni Bellini, in the com- 
pany of Titian and Giorgione. But it was the last- 
named artist who most excited the young Friulan's 
admiration and waxing powers; whether or not he fol- 
lowed Giorgione to Castelfranco, certain it is that he 
adopted the latter's style, attained much of his pe- 
culiar glowing tone and coloring, and followed his 
manner to the end, while developing later some de- 
cidedly variant characteristics. I had seen at Treviso, 
in the debated Entombment, how entirely similar was 
the work of the youthful painter to that of his adored 
Barbarelli. 

The Venetians, according to their habit, did not 
call him Regillo, but "II Pordenone"; and the appel- 
lation has clung, — which is perhaps fortunate, for 
it serves to distinguish him from his cousin Bernar- 
dino Licinio, who produced works of less ability in a 
somewhat similar style. As Pordenone advanced in 
his strength of original conception, bold execution, 
and vigorous action and expression, until he became 
after Barbarelli's death one of the chiefs of the Vene- 
tian school, he traveled all over North Italy decorating 
churches, palaces, and castles. His was an exceptional, 
restless, forceful, ardent spirit, which shines reechoed 
from his daring, powerful pictures, with their massive, 
bold, energetic figures in brilliant costumes; his large 
frescoes were therefore very striking productions; and 
he executed them in all the different northern states 
and courts, from Piacenza in the southwest to Udine 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 263 

in the northeast. But, unfortunately, most of them 
have perished, and those remaining are rarely in a 
good condition. His frescoes in his native place enjoy 
the distinction of being authentic beyond a question, 
because they are described in a still existing autograph 
of the master; and I eagerly hoped to find them in a 
decent preservation. His smaller, pietistic canvases, 
however, were so entirely different from the frescoes, 
often, as to make one wonder if he had not a double 
personality; they were as gentle, dignified, refined, and 
serenely lovely as the larger works were bold and 
vigorous. 

The station lies to the south of the little city, now 
of but five thousand inhabitants, with a long, straight, 
modern thoroughfare leading north from it to the 
central piazza. Leaving my luggage in deposit, I fol- 
lowed this broad way between its late stuccoed build- 
ings, seeing no signs of the medieval walls. The fairly 
wide piazza was bounded by the same sort of modern 
structures, and crossed by the main street running 
east and west, which was a section of the great high- 
way from Italy to the Orient. It was unusually wide, 
paved with cobblestones, and lined on both sides by 
continuous arcades of every age and style, upon which 
rose four-storied buildings of stone and plaster. Most 
of the old town lay to the north of this avenue, which 
very likely was originally but a road along the outside 
of the southern walls, — as at Conegliano. 

In its western portion I found nothing of interest; 
but its eastern contained an interesting variety of edi- 
fices, from quaint Gothic arcades and fagades to pon- 
derous palaces of the Late-Renaissance; and between 
a forking of the way, facing down it toward the piaz- 
za several hundred yards distant, rose the curious old 
Gothic Palazzo Municipale. The appearance of this 



264 PLAIN-TOWKS OF ITALY 

building was unique: the main body had three triply 
recessed, large, pointed arches in the ground floor, 
opening into the customary, deep, shadowy loggia, 
and three corresponding openings in the upper floor, 
of which the central was a simple doorway, and the 
outer were triple Gothic windows, topped by brick 
mouldings in the form of geometrical tracery within 
a terra-cotta label. These windows were a curiosity 
that would have wildly aroused the enthusiasm of the 
late Mr. Street in his Gothic wanderings. Over them 
ran a trecento cornice in the shape of connected, brick 
trefoil arches resting upon corbels: and from each upper 
corner rose a strange square turret, — an open belfry of 
four trefoil arches (one to each side) sustained by mar- 
ble columns, and surmounted by an acute brick spire. 
The structure dates, it is said, from as early as 1291. 
But the queerest feature was the narrow portico 
which projected from the building's centre and rose 
two full stories above the cornice, like a tower: its 
first division, a Gothic archway upon marble columns 
of unusual weight; its second, a rounded archway with 
a balustrade, forming a ringhiera balcony entered by 
the aforesaid doorway; its third and fourth divisions, 
solid, square brick bodies, with marble columns at the 
angles; and upon the face of the third story stood 
a huge clock-face, upon the summit of the fourth was 
a bell swinging in the open, with two bronze figures 
beside it, to strike the hours with hammers, — so much 
like the clock-tower of St. Mark's as to make one gaze 
for a moment in astonishment. All of this delightful 
old edifice was of unstuccoed, unpainted brick, except 
the score of marble columns, and some marble blocks 
at the angles of the portico's first division. In the 
Italian civic buildings of Gothic times, I know nothing 
resembling it. 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 265 

The upper story of the palazzo contains the city's 
collection of paintings; but before visiting that, I 
turned into the left branch of the forking street, where 
the great, ponderous form of the Cathedral stood 
looking across at the palazzo's side. Its fagade was 
but partly finished, as far as the tops of the shafts of 
the white stone columns, that rose to the height of a 
single story, — appearing strange, indeed, without 
any capitals, just as they stood when the masons 
dropped their tools far back in Renaissance days. 
Above them the wall was of bare plaster only; but 
in their centre stood the completed main doorway, in 
a Renaissance marble frame of exceeding loveliness. 
The faces of its pilasters were cut with arabesque reliefs, 
its rich entablature was surmounted by a finely moulded 
arch, and within this arch, beside it, and upon it, 
stood four very old statues, of the Saviour, a saint, 
and two angels. Following the former loyalty of the 
Municipio, in its careful resemblance to the Venetian 
clock-tower, this edifice was dedicated to S. Marco. 
Inside it I found a wide, flat-arched nave, without 
aisles, with shallow chapels at the sides, a transept, 
and a raised choir flanked by chapels ; — all in quiet, 
unadorned Renaissance lines, covered with shining 
plaster. Though commenced in 1360, the building 
was not completed and decorated until during the 
quaftrocento. 

This was the simple, spacious church that Por- 
denone worked for at several different periods, and 
enriched with his genius. Immediately upon the 
first altar to the right stood the best of those produc- 
tions, a canvas of a beauty so refined and lustrous, that 
I was transfixed with delight. It was one of his smaller 
pietistic works, thoroughly gentle, blissful, dignified, 
and strong, component of the qualities of Bellini and 



2Q6 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY, 

Giorgione. It was a Holy Family of his more repose- 
ful, early period (1515) — the graceful form of the Ma- 
donna standing alone in the centre, St. Joseph hold- 
ing the sacred child, and St. Christopher at the other 
side; behind them a curious rocky landscape, with 
a village and some ancient ruins ; dark clouds overcast- 
ing the sky above, through which fell a golden, crim- 
son light upon the pleasing figures, wrapped in a glo- 
rious warm tone and atmosphere. The quiet, refined 
coloring had faded into still more delicate hues, ac- 
cordant with the peaceful rapture of those beautiful 
faces. 

In the first little chapel of the right transept were 
some small, damaged frescoes, representing scenes from 
the New Testament, said to be by Pordenone's school, 
— not first-class pictures, but of good spacing and 
action, and high coloring; and the altar-piece was a 
Holy Family by A. Matteo, containing a lovely Ma- 
donna, of rich tone and happy tints. Adjacent upon 
a pillar I observed one of Pordenone's frescoes, — 
the two forms of Saints Roch and Erasmus, the former 
in the artist's own lineaments; though sadly injured, 
they were still full of strength and individuality. 
In the second chapel of this transept, behind its altar, 
appeared a very old fresco of the Madonna and two 
saints, by an unknown hand, also much damaged, but 
interesting for its {-emarkable power, and the beauty of 
the Holy Virgin. 

Behind the altar I found Pordenone's third work, 
a large canvas of his later period of massive, strenu- 
ous figures (1535). It represents the glorification of 
St. Mark, with a number of other saints of heroic 
size, including S. Alessandro in gleaming armor, and 
three charming little angels playing instruments. 
The coloring, once so gorgeous, has faded away, leav- 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 267 

ing the huge forms without any very pleasing attri- 
butes; but it illustrates the master's exceptional abil- 
ity in forceful, clean, well-modeled drawing. As Va- 
sari well said, "He stood preeminent above them all, 
surpassing his predecessors in the conception of his 
pieces, in design, in boldness, and the use of his colors 
in his frescoes, in rapidity, in grandeur of relief, and 
indeed in every other accomplishment of the art"; 
and Lanzi, "Pordenone seemed to vie with Giorgione 
in spirit, a spirit equally daring, resolute, and great, 
surpassed by no other, perhaps, in the Venetian 
school." 1 

There was one more first-class painting in this 
Duomo, a splendid example of Fogolino of Vicenza, 
over the third altar on the left of the nave; it repre- 
sented the Madonna with Saints Biagio and Apol- 
lonia, in his restricted but restful quattrocento style, 
remarkably well disposed and modeled, the tone and 
color gone, but still of enticing grace, — especially 
in the lovely Virgin. The picture has been for cen- 
turies highly esteemed in Pordenone, whose people 
call it the Madonna della Colonna. During the same 
period the Cathedral had another, similar Fogolino 
of much renown, which I could find no trace of, — an 
Apotheosis of St. Francis, between Saints Daniel 
and John the Baptist. In the small baptismal chapel 
on the left I saw the original wooden sides of the ancient 
font, preserved in glass cases, covered with uncom- 
monly quaint little pictures from the life of the 
Baptist, by an unknown master, — not Pordenone, 
as alleged by the simple natives; the scenes of the 
Birth and the Banquet of Herod were unusually 
good. 

On leaving the church I examined a fine old oak 

^ Lanzi, History of Painting, vol. ii, p. 147. 



268 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

bench of five seats, placed against the entrance wall, 
within a railing, and richly and beautifully carved; 
it was the former seat of the city's podestd and as- 
sessors, brought here for preservation from the Muni- 
cipio, — a relic of the highest development of that wood 
sculpture which in this land of forests was its first 
chief art. 

I recrossed to the municipal palace, climbed the 
stairway behind the loggia to its upper floor, and in- 
vestigated the pictures, which were hung around the 
sides of the main salon in front. ^ Among the several 
dozen were a few of striking excellence : a large canvas 
(number 1) of Saints Roch, Sebastian, and Gothard, 
with two exquisite cherubs at their feet, making mu- 
sic under an open temple-roof, — of tender, golden 
tone and light, but of unknown authorship; a specimen 
of Alessandro Varotari, manifesting, for once, real 
genius, — which I had always thought he wanted, — 
showing the Madonna with the infant Christ, who is 
receiving a lily from a female personifying Justice, 
St. Mark standing at the right with his Lion (an un- 
usual picture, exceptionally preserved and conspicuous, 
yet of daintiest grace and coloring, and fine atmo- 
spheric and light-effects); thirdly, a small, restored, 
but lovely work of Leandro Bassano's, — a Madonna 
with Saints Catherine and John the Baptist, replete 
with excellence of composition and modeling, rich, soft 
coloring and sombrous tone, having a background, to 
the left, of a Diaz-like landscape, and to the right, of 
a bright green curtain, before which the attractive 
Madonna worships her Son with downcast eyes; 

1 This was the chamber, I was told, in which Pordenone's municipal 
council had met for six hundred years; that unique assembly of nobles and 
bourgeois, which governed the city so well and steadily during all the 
changes and agitations of the Middle Age. The room itself was redeco- 
rated in the Renaissance. 



FROM TREVISO TO UDINE 269 

finally, and chiefly, the extraordinary, long, narrow 
fresco by Pordenone, which was removed from his 
house when the latter was demolished in 1838, and 
hung clear across the end of the chamber. 

This is a strange paysage, of much variety, clearly 
painted by the master for diversion in his light- 
some hours: it shows a fertile valley, with a distant 
village at the foot of two hills, on whose shoulders 
rise aged castles (an exact likeness of Ceneda, even 
to the Duomo tower), with the line of the serrated 
Alps behind, and a grove at one side; before the 
latter dance a number of peasants to the playing 
of flutes, while others sit about or drink beer, in 
genuine Flemish genre style. It is very curious and 
interesting for the versatility and gay spirit it mani- 
fests, — for nothing ""more opposite to the glorious 
Holy Family of the Cathedral could easily be imag- 
ined; and it shows Pordenone a good master of land- 
scape, with strong powers of realistic atmosphere and 
perspective. 

After this there was nought else to be done but walk 
around the streets of the old town on the north, look- 
ing for remains of frescoed facades, and hunting up 
Pordenone's other paintings in the scattered churches. 
Crowe and Cavalcaselle said in their day," We find 
here house decoration as frequent as elsewhere, 
Mantegnesque in spirit and above the style of Dario"; 
but now, at any rate, it was very little to be seen. In 
the church "di Torre" was a delightful Pordenone 
canvas, of the Madonna enthroned between four 
saints and some pretty angels; and in those of "di 
Villanova" and "di Roraigrande" were frescoes of 
his upon the choir- vaultings, representing the Evangel- 
ists with their symbols, and prophets and doctors of 
the Church general. Altogether, that master's native 



270 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

city, though Httle interesting in itself, and though 
lacking an example of his great dramatic frescoes, 
affords perhaps the best comprehension to be obtained 
anywhere now of the deep versatility of his genius, 
in its varying moods and different ages. ""^ 



CHAPTER VIII 

UDINE AND CIVIDALE 

The moon is up, and yet it is not night — 
Sunset divides the sky with her — a sea 
Of glory streams along the Alpine heights 
Of blue Friuli's mountains. 

— Childe Harold. 

Of all the storied lands of Europe this is the most pa- 
thetic and the most laden with sorrowful memories. 
The sunset that lies upon its peaks shines not so much 
with glory as with the crimson blood of its countless 
slain inhabitants ; and its advancing shadows hold the 
smoke of numberless burning habitations. Friuli has 
been the most important and perilous frontier of all 
the world's long ages. It became Rome's outpost as 
early as 183 B.C., when, having subdued the Boii and 
taken over the control of the half of the plain south of 
the Po, she founded Aquileia at the foot of the eastern 
Alps and the Adriatic, as a guard against further 
incursions of the Celtic tribes. The ^Emilian and Cas- 
sian highways were then extended to the north, and 
Roman cities stretched gradually over the plain, to 
Padua, Concordia, Opitergium (Oderzo), Utina, and 
Portus Naonis. From their Forum Julii at the Alpine 
base, this whole district in later days obtained its 
name of Friuli. Henceforth it was a perpetual battle- 
ground for the Latin people; hardly had it recovered 
from the long wars of the Roman subjugation of the 
Celts, when it became the scene of conflicts between 
the candidates for the imperial throne. Proconsuls 
marching their legions from the Orient found their 



272 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

advance contested at the end of the Alpine passes, 
and the garrisoned cities of the plain defying their pro- 
gress. When Constantinople became a capital, there 
were as many devastating legions marching the other 
way, from the day when Constantine rushed with only 
twenty thousand veterans to snatch the crown from 
Licinius. Ah, how many unremembered times did 
those wretched Friulan towns suffer siege, assault, and 
fiery destruction, at the hands of their fellow citizens, 
in those two centuries of civil strife. 

Yet it was only a preparation for the terrible ages 
that followed. From the invasion of the Visigoths in 
403 A.D., with Alaric at their head, the vast onrush of 
barbarians from the East turned Friuli into a blood- 
deluged and smoking desert. Attila with his Huns in 
452 first earned here his appellation of the "Scourge 
of God"; the unlucky province, as in every case, re- 
ceived the full brunt of the savages' first lust and 
wrath, and scarcely one builded stone was left upon 
another. After Udine, Aquileia herself was seized and 
destroyedi The castle hill that rises in Udine's centre 
from the perfect level, is said to have been thrown up 
by Attila's order, that he might watch from its sum- 
mit the burning of the sister-city, — an impossible 
legend, strangely like that about the monster Nero, 
yet showing by its very excess what an ineffaceable 
impression of horror was made by the conqueror's 
brutality. So fell magnificent Aquileia, with her my- 
riad marble temples, baths, porticoes, and palaces, 
one of the few grandest productions of Roman genius 
and civilization. Padua, Vicenza, Verona, Bologna, 
nearly all the great cities of the plain, sank with most 
of the little ones into ashes, before this incarnate fiend. 
But from the despoiled fugitives left of Aquileia's 
population, who had fled for a safe retreat to the 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 273 

marshy islands of the lagoons, rose that city of fairy- 
land destined to be greater than them all, and to rule 
them in after days with immortal splendor. 

Following the Huns, in 489, ruined Friuli was de- 
scended upon by Theodoric and his Ostrogoths. They 
were confronted on the Isonzo, that flowed past the 
remains of Aquileia, by Odoacer, the recently ap- 
pointed ruler of Italy, king of the settled Visigothic 
tribes, who were intrenched in a fortified camp; and 
one of those momentous battles of the world took place, 
of which this unfortunate district saw so many. The 
Ostrogoths — in spite of inferior numbers, and of 
being incumbered by their long trains of women and 
children, oxen and belongings — swam the river, took 
the fortresses by fierce assault, and scattered their ene- 
mies far and wide. Theodoric seized what was left of 
the poor Friulan towns, but did not burn them, — an 
act he was above; he went on to defeat Odoacer at a 
decisive battle near Verona, occupy all of North Italy, 
and reign very justly till his death in 527. 

Then came the armies of the great Justinian, to 
reconquer Italy for the Byzantine throne, and make 
Ravenna the seat of his viceroy's government. Then 
Alboin and his Lombards, in 568, who grasped Friuli 
and the greater part of the peninsula with a grip which 
did not relax for two hundred years. Alboin divided 
his new realm into thirty-six separate duchies, of 
which Friuli was one; and this he bestowed upon his 
nephew Gisulf, who immediately placed his capital at 
Forum Julii, — thenceforth known as Cividale. 

Gisulf, after a noble reign, perished in defending his 
duchy against the invading Mongolian Avars, in the 
early years of the succeeding century; once more the 
miserable people suffered the consequence of their 
frontier location. It was then that occurred the mem- 



274 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

orable tragedy of Romilda, the Lombard princess, 
who opened the gates of Forum Julii to her barbarian 
lover, saw her city ruined under her eyes, and reaped 
that horrible, exceptional fate which Gibbon so viv- 
idly narrates.^ A large number of luckless Friulans 
were borne away captive, the men to be massacred 
in Pannonia, the women and children doomed to the 
worse fate of slavery. Finally came the Franks under 
Charlemagne, who seized the oft-conquered towns and 
constituted the province a county of his own realm, 
toward the close of the eighth century. 

Under the loose sway of the Prankish counts the 
Church gradually assumed the chief power in Friuli. 
Counts and Archbishops dwelt together in Cividale; 
the latter having removed there from ruined Aquileia, 
after their return from Grado, — a place in the adja- 
cent lagoons, where they and many of their flock had 
found asylum during the ravages of the Huns. The 
Archbishop was Patriarch of Friuli, Istria, and Dal- 
matia, and when he departed from Grado, had left 
there in 'charge a local bishop, whose see was soon 
rapidly increased by the arrival of more refugees. 
After the coming of the Lombards with their Arian 
faith, it was embraced by the Patriarch of Aquileia,^ 
along with all his subject bishops, excepting Grado 
alone; Elias, Bishop of Grado, thereupon seized the 
opportunity to obtain from Pope Pelagius II in 579 a 
law making him and his successors the Patriarchs of 
the Lagoons and Istria. Such was the foundation of 
the Metropolitan See of Venice; which grew in power 
constantly with the growth of the island towns, and 
provoked the envious hatred of Cividale. 

^ Gibbon, Decline and Fall, vol. iv. 

2 This was the primate's customary title, and continued to be so after 
the removal to Cividale, and to Udine. 




CIYIDALE. SAX PELTRUDIS. EARLY LOMBARD SCULFTURES. 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 275 

For six hundred years the reverend Patriarchs of 
Aquileia, not satisfied with their sway upon the main- 
land, — which extended to the Mincio in the west, — 
never ceased their efforts to recover the lost territory 
of Istria and the Lagoons; and the history of Friuli 
became in part a series of wars waged by one holy pre- 
late against the other. Several times the hot attacks 
upon Grado by the Friulans, led by their Patriarch, 
succeeded in taking the city and expelling its churchly 
ruler; but at last Venice took a hand in favor of the 
latter, after one of these expulsions, effected with the 
aid of the Emperor Frederick. She attacked Aqui- 
leia with her war-fleet, and brought its Patriarch in 
chains to the Doge's palace. Thereafter his success- 
ors were obliged for many generations to send to the 
Republic a yearly, ironical tribute of twelve pigs. 

The result of these centuries of strange warfare be- 
tween Friuli and the Lagoons was the end of the Pa- 
triarchs' dominance over the Friulans, and their entire 
subjection to Venice. In the first years of the fifteenth 
century the Emperor Sigismund waged war against 
the Serene Republic, and the Patriarch of Aquileia, 
with his allied forces, once more siezed the opportun- 
ity to attack Grado and the towns of the lagoon; but 
Venice acted quickly, and before the Emperor could 
send assistance, overran and conquered the whole 
Friulan territory, and, despite all combinations and 
excommunications, retained it as her permanent pro- 
vince. Cividale was occupied in 1419, Udine in 1420, 
and the latter — then grown to be the larger city, and 
the seat of the Patriarchs — was made the capital of the 
province; while the primates themselves were reduced 
to simple archbishops, without any temporal power. ^ 

^ This revolution left the Patriarch of Grado alone in his primacy; but 
in 1445 the Venetians removed his seat to St. Mark's, — to produce long 
after, from one of its holders, the good Pope that reigns to-day. 



276 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Friuli now had peace at last; prosperity developed 
under the kind Venetian rule, and with it the retarded 
arts of the Renaissance. The wood-carvers of the 
forests laid aside the chisel and took up the brush, 
laboriously teaching themselves, for two generations, 
the principles of drawing. So were evolved without 
outside teaching those two quaint painters of the lat- 
ter part of the quattrocento, the best of their fellows, 
— Domenico da Tolmezzo and Andrea Bellunello; 
they turned out earnest, naive, sentimental pictures, 
with little power of modeling, grace, or coloring, but 
decidedly good considering their authors' lack of 
advantages. Their figures and groups of holy person- 
ages were drawn with a faithfulness, a sincerity, a 
deep feeling, that lift the results above mere categories 
of points successful or failed, into expositions of two 
lovable, believing human souls. One forgets the brush 
in thinking of the artist. To them, if to any painters 
that have lived, are applicable Lytton's significant 
words : — 

• For Art in Nature made by Man, 

To Man the interpreter of God.^ 

At last, about 1500, the methods of Venetian paint- 
ing penetrated the country, and graduates of the 
school of Giovanni Bellini awoke the Friulans with 
their graceful work. Of these the first to gain pro- 
minence were Giovanni Martini, and that Martino 
d' Udine, Friuli's primary genius, who was called "Pel- 
legrino" (singular) by his master, on account of his 
unusual ability, and "da S. Daniele" after the town 
where he long resided and executed his masterpieces. 
They were great rivals; but "the style of the former 
was harsh and crude, though not destitute of grace, "^ 
and the latter far excelled him both in execution and 

^ Lord Lytton, The Artist. ^ Lanzi, History of Painting. 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 277 

in beauty. Girolamo da Udine also developed a charm- 
ing Bellinesque manner. 

After these men came the disciples of Titian and 
Giorgione, — including Friuli's second genius, Por- 
denone, and that excellent decorator, Giovanni da 
Udine, with whom all are familiar from his labors in 
Rome; he studied under Raffaele as well as Barbarelli, 
and brought into Friuli upon his return that use of 
grotesques, named after Raphael, with which he 
became chiefly identified. In the next generation, in- 
cluding Pordenone's disciple, Amalteo, who was con- 
siderably above his fellows, the art entered upon its 
steady decline; and produced thenceforth no Friulan 
worker of first-rate ability, — if we except Antonio 
Carnio, in the seventeenth century, in whom was the 
last flare-up of the dying fire. 

Udine, the Roman Utina, which has taken the place 
of Aquileia and Cividale as the capital of Friuli, lies less 
than ten miles from the eastern Alpine wall, and some 
twenty miles north of the lagoons, upon the Roggia 
Canal, connecting the rivers Torre and Cormor, upon 
either side. About five miles to its northwest rises the 
chain of foothills, separated from the Alps, in which 
nestles the town of S. Daniele. The reason for Udine's 
existence in earliest times, and its survival of all dis- 
asters, is that it has always been the junction of the 
highways, once traversed by horse and now by train, 
which enter the plain from Austria; — one of these 
passes descending from the north by the valleys of the 
Tagliamento and the Fella, the other crossing by way 
of Gorz on the east. This was an important position, 
strategically as well as commercially; and the history 
of Udine, accordingly, has been in large part that of 
Friuli. It succeeded Cividale as the virtual capital 
of the province about 1248, when it was formally 



278 . PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

designated by the Patriarch of Aquileia as the resi- 
dence of his successors. 

When the Venetians seized the province in 1420, 
Udine held out under siege beyond the other cities, 
endeavoring to preserve the safety of her patriarchal 
ruler; but when the latter fled by stealth to the 
Count of Gorizia, Udine became an unwavering Vene- 
tian subject. After Napoleon in 1797 had chased the 
Austrians out of Italy, following them to the very 
gates of the Julian Alps, it was at the little village of 
Campo Formio, only four miles from the capital, that 
the terms of peace were arranged and signed. Al- 
though by them France received the Netherlands, and 
Austria recognized the independence of the Cisalpine 
and Ligurian Republics, Friuli and all the Venetian 
territories east of the Adige passed under a foreign 
yoke; and when, after sixty years of suffering and 
struggling, Friuli was finally freed by the war of 1866, 
Udine saw the Austrian boundary drawn hardly a 
dozen miles beyond, leaving in their hated hands 
Gorizia, Trieste, Istria, and Dalmatia, — all the east- 
ern lands of Venice, vibrating still with her speech and 
pride, and which Italians will never rest satisfied till 
they have joined once more to the motherland. 

The castle hill of Udine — which certainly has 
every appearance of artificial construction — stood at 
the northern side of the oval of the original, smaller 
town, whose outline is still clearly visible upon the 
plan, marked by the broad streets replacing the walls; 
to-day all this is inclosed in the middle of the modern 
city, — a quadrilateral many times the former size; so 
that the castle now stands a little north of the city's 
centre. The Roggia Canal penetrates the quadrangle 
on its northern side, flows around the east side of the 
original oval, — which it completely encircled as a 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 279 

moat in the first place, — and emerges on the south by 
the side of the railroad station. The lofty embankment 
of the Renaissance walls is still standing upon the 
southern, eastern, and eastern half of the northern 
sides of the rectangle, and on its western side has been 
replaced by a shady parkway. 

Roundabout the old citadel, inevitably, are found 
the centres of the city's life: along its western base lies 
the lengthy, ancient market-place, still called the Mer- 
cato Vecchio; at its southern angle lies the smaller 
Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, fronted by the Municipio, 
the town loggia, the clock- and bell-tower, and the or- 
nate, arched entrance to the castle grounds; and on its 
northeastern flank stretches the vast Piazza d'Armi, 
five hundred yards long by three hundred wide. 
To the south of this piazza and the hill, rise the 
other chief public buildings, — the Duomo, Prefet- 
tura. Archbishop's Palace, and Tribunale. From the 
Piazza Vittorio Emanuele the principal thorough- 
fare runs southeasterly, past the Cathedral, under the 
names of Via Posta and Via Aquileia, to the main 
gate called Porta Aquileia. This pierces the southern 
city wall a little east of the station; and some dis- 
tance west of it opens another gateway called Porta 
Cussignacco, from which the other main street runs 
windingly, under different names, through the promi- 
nent Piazzas Garibaldi and Venti Settembre, north- 
ward to the market-place. Between these two city 
gates, outside the ramparts and yet north of the rail- 
road tracks, a new residence quarter has lately arisen, 
containing a number of avenues with glaring modern 
houses, standing in extensive lawns and gardens, — 
which stretch behind the buildings and do not hide 
their ugliness. 

When, therefore, I had arrived late in the afternoon 



280 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

from Pordenone, after a journey of no special interest, 
beyond the crossing of the wide stony bed of the his- 
torical Tagliamento,^ — this new section was my first 
glimpse of Udine. I entered the omnibus of the Al- 
bergo Italia, theretofore recommended to me as a fam- 
ous old hostelry, and was driven westward through 
the aforesaid modern streets to Porta Cussignacco. 
Here an official of the octroi duties appeared and went 
through the usual performance, opening the door and 
asking if we had anything dutiable, shutting it again 
before we had fairly responded with the customary 
negative. It is strange how the cities cling to that 
antiquated method of raising revenue, — for taxing 
food and drink is the unfairest of all systems, bearing 
heavily upon the poor and hardly touching the rich; 
but I had found of late a few towns that had abolished 
it, like Vittorio and Conegliano; and at any rate it is 
more civilly executed than years ago, when I some- 
times had to suffer the entire ransacking of my lug- 
gage. _ 

Inside'the gate the way became instantly medieval, 

— narrow and dark, between aged, stuccoed dwellings, 

— and so led us windingly to the broad Piazza Venti 
Settembre, four or five hundred yards southwest of the 
castle, and to the inn facing it upon its western end. 
The usual driveway pierced the arcade of the buildings, 
to the stable-yard behind; on the left of the passage 

^ As an instance of the extraordinary rapidity with which these rivers 
have raised their beds since they were confined by dikes, showing the tre- 
mendous masses of stony detritus brought annually from the Alps, which 
they used to scatter over the plain, it should be noted that the town of 
Codroipo, on the Tagliamento's left bank, now lies at a level some thirty 
feet below the torrent's present bed. One can therefore understand the 
devastation caused when such a stream breaks loose. In flood-times there 
is a watchman, night and day, to every hundred yards upon the dikes. 
Casarsa, on the Tagliamento's right bank here, holds in its church some 
fairly good frescoes of Pordenone, of his middle period (1525). 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 281 

and yard were the dining-rooms and kitchen, while a 
stairway on the right ascended to the upper hall, and 
the dark tortuous corridors leading to the chambers 
of the different jfloors. The heavy, cumbrous furniture 
looked unaltered from a couple of centuries ago; but 
everything was quite clean and comfortable, and its 
very age produced that sensation of homelikeness 
which is so pleasing in the old-fashioned country inns. 
I was given a fine large bedroom looking upon the rear 
garden; and found the cooking excellent. 

When I went out the next morning, the deserted 
shadowy piazza of the evening hour had altered to a 
dazzling scene of active life; the sun poured down from 
a cloudless sky upon a village of canvas roofs dotting 
the inclosure, which joined with the flagged pavement 
in radiating the flood of light. It was now the grain 
market of the city, but the booths shone richly with 
nearly every kind of produce; the old peasant women 
who tended them chattered and laughed noisily, 
children rolled and shrieked in every corner, and 
crowds of men and house-wives trafficked and ges- 
ticulated. The old house-fagades surrounding the 
place complemented the scene, with their deep ar- 
cades on piers and heavy pillars, their stained stucco 
faces of the upper stories, and windows of every by- 
gone shape and condition. In the centre was a hand- 
some stone fountain of Renaissance days, with two 
basins, and near the western end, a lofty marble 
column surmounted by a quaint, crowned figure of 
the Madonna. Just behind this rose the only building 
of any pretensions, adjacent to the inn, — a marble- 
faced, religious structure of rococo design, ugly in its 
details of window-frame, niche, and gable, but effective 
as a glowing whole, with its ornate, columned belfry, 
and baroque statues lining the cornice. 



282 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Moving through the crowd, I saw a couple of men 
in garb so strange that I did not for an instant dis- 
cern their occupation; they wore long, black, single- 
breasted coats reaching to their feet, with no braid 
nor other ornamentation, and ported high hats and 
long heavy batons, — presenting altogether a most 
funereal appearance, and reminding me of nothing so 
much as an undertaker combined with a poor Eng- 
lish country beadle. But they were gendarmes, and 
it was the regular police costume of the city. Aston- 
ishingly different, this, from the gold lace, epaulettes, 
cocked hats, fancy swords, and general bird-of -paradise 
costume of the usual Italian gendarme; and it demon- 
strates better than a chapter of description the similar 
difference in the character of these North Italians 
from that of their brethren farther south. They are 
so much nearer to northern coldness, quiet, and sim- 
plicity, which detest showiness, and the use of cold 
steel in the time of peace. The same sort of police 
uniform, modeled upon those of England and Hol- 
land, prevails in some of the other North Italian 
towns. 

From the end of this piazza I followed a street north- 
eastward that brought me shortly to the front of the 
Cathedral, which is set off by open spaces on three 
sides, and backs upon the Via della Posta; — a spacious 
brick building of the thirteenth century, originally of 
the transition style between Romanesque and Gothic, 
but with its once noble fagade mutilated by baroque 
portals. These were just in process of being removed, 
in a wholesome restoration. I could see the original 
main entrance, cleared of the mean additions, revealed 
as a beautiful pointed archway, recessed with elaborate 
mouldings, in which lingered the foot-rests and can- 
opies of vanished statuettes; and in the tympanum 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 283 

was one of those delightfully quaint, early reliefs, — 
of the Crucifixion and the Lamb. 

Above, there stretched across the f agade from shoul- 
der to shoulder one of those interesting, Lombardesque, 
arcaded cornices, of crossed round arches springing 
from coupled, slender shafts, the intersections form- 
ing pointed trefoils; at the ends of this arcade, and in 
the gable, were three circular, brick, false windows, 
recessed with many mouldings, which doubtless once 
were filled with open tracery. There were two more 
handsome Gothic portals, in the sides of the church, 
which had never been demolished and still partly pre- 
served their exquisite marble sculptures; and far 
above the roof soared the ponderous old six-sided 
campanile. 

In the extensive, dusky interior I found the un- 
usual design, for Venetia, of a nave with two aisles 
on each side, — the outer, lower aisles being ar- 
ranged as two series of open chapels; six enormous 
pillars lined the nave, and shorter pillars divided the 
inner from the outer aisles; there was no transept, but 
an elevated -presbytery extended from wall to wall, 
arched by frescoed groinings and a double dome 
painted with a cloudy paradise; the choir was further 
elevated; and the only light penetrating the chiaroscuro 
entered through the dome and the small clerestory 
windows. On the wall over the main entrance pranced 
a Late-Renaissance equestrian statue (1617) of General 
Count Antonini of Udine;^ the other main sculptures 

^ This statue, with a similar one to Marc, di Manzano in the Duomo of 
Cividale, was erected by the Venetian Government to the memory of 
those two valiant Friulan captains, who fell fighting against the imperial- 
ists. The remarkable manner in which this great church, with its broad 
open presbytery and choir, elevated above the nave, is adapted to show- 
ing off the magnificent ceremonies that have been traditional with the 
patriarchate^ is also worthy of attention. 



284 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

were two remarkable benches of choir-stalls at the 
ends of the presbytery, richly carved with designs and 
reliefs of Biblical scenes and martyrdoms, also an an- 
cient marble sarcophagus behind the high-altar, with 
Early-Christian reliefs crudely depicting the Flagella- 
tion and the Crucijfixion, — a very interesting relic. 

The church was a veritable gallery of Friulan paint- 
ings, containing works of Bellunello, Domenico da 
Tolmezzo, Girolamo da Udine, Giovanni Martini, 
Pellegrino da S. Daniele, Amalteo, and Pordenone, 
besides other masters of less importance; and chief of 
them all were the two splendid specimens of those long 
dead rivals. Martini and Pellegrino, standing appro- 
priately side by side, on the first two altars to the left. 
Martini's (done in 1501) represents St. Mark enthroned 
between two bishops; and, though faded in tone and 
color, leaving now only estimates as to its original 
brilliancy, it is of excellent composition and drawing, 
and a certain picturesque grace. Pellegrino's (done in 
1502) has the advantage of much better preservation, 
and is generally more effective and lovely, showing 
the superiority of his genius. This really famous picture 
represents St. Joseph holding in his arms the infant 
Christ, with the young St. John leaning near by against 
a railing and gazing tenderly at the Child, — and a 
stately background of classic building, ruinous and 
romantic; there is a curious, died-out, old-gold tone, 
with a sense of gentle and seraphic feeling; and the 
boyish form of the Baptist is thoroughly enchanting, 
Lanzi says of the former, that it is "the richest speci- 
men which appeared from his [Martini's] hands," and 
of the latter, that it is "still worthy of admiration for 
its architecture," and each of its figures "displays 
the finest contours and the best forms." ^ 

1 Lanzi, History of Painting. 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 285 

Pordenone's works were in the sacristy, — three 
small canvases, of which one, the burial of a saint, 
was poor and of doubtful authenticity. The other two, 
Christ raising Lazarus and a bishop healing a woman, 
were full of exceptional feeling and good atmosphere, 
and one contained a very grand figure of the Saviour. 
From this room the old sacristan conducted me across 
the street on the south side of the Duomo to a little 
church called the Chiesa alia Purita, which he opened 
with his keys and showed me lined about with large 
paintings. 

It was a single-storied chapel, with a flat ceiling 
and another floor above it, simple in lines and fur- 
nishings and of modern appearance; but it dated from 
the seicento, and had been decorated with nine pic- 
tures by the Tiepoli, father and son. Now the Tie- 
poli were artists very little fitted to adorn a sacred 
place or reproduce a religious scene, and I gazed at 
this their attempt to swim in an alien element with 
much curiosity. The work of Giovanni Battista, the 
father, consisted of one of his large, circular ceiling 
frescoes, intended to represent the Ascension of the 
Virgin; and showed his customary white clouds, blue 
spaces, and scattered flying figures, in his usual gay tone 
and tints. There was actually no difference from his 
regular reproductions of Olympus and Greek gods, if 
I except possibly the uplifted, rapt face and pose of the 
Virgin's figure, which were undeniably devotional. 
Otherwise it was positively amusing. The work of 
Tiepolo, junior, consisted of eight large pictures in 
grisaille upon the walls, above the wainscoting, re- 
presenting both Old and New Testament scenes : such 
as Elias and the bears, — a strong and realistic tableau; 
the entry into Jerusalem, — with an unbearded Christ; 
Jacob dying amidst his twelve sons, — of excellent 



PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

dramatic force; the Sons of Maccabeus, — finely 
composed and acted, — and so on. These pictures, 
though poor in modehng and grace, had much power 
and dramatic value, and showed the son much superior 
to the father in versatility and expression. 

From the rear of the Duomo I now followed the 
Via Posta northwestward, coming quickly to the 
Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. Before my delighted eyes 
opened one of the most pictureque city squares of all 
Italy, — so varied, so faced with beautiful architect- 
ure, so adorned with handsome arcades, columns, 
and statuary, so imposingly dominated by the vast 
castle towering upon its hilltop overhead, that I stood 
still, enraptured. The place is an elongated rectangle 
stretching northwest and southeast, with the citadel 
rising above its northern corner; the continuation of 
the Via Posta extends with its tramway tracks along 
the southwestern flank, divided from the rest of the 
open by a stone parapet, upon which the remaining, 
larger space is terraced as a monumental promenade, 
sloping gently with the hill's first inclination up to a 
splendid portico on the right. 

This portico is an exquisite Renaissance arcade, long 
and deep, entirely of glistening marble, whose fair, 
rounded arches rise upon slender Ionic columns; an 
approaching flight of marble steps extends the whole 
length; and in the centre it is lifted to two stories by 
a square pavilion, faced by a huge archway, twice the 
height of the colonnade, which is sustained by triple 
clusters of Ionic shafts. Behind the pavilion rise a 
graceful dome and lantern, upon whose left the muni- 
cipal clock- and bell-tower soars into the blue. This 
is another beautiful Renaissance monument, in two 
divisions visible above the top parapet of the loggia: 
the first of heavy, rusticated, stone blocks, faced by 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 287 

the old relief of the winged Venetian Lion, the second 
containing the clock-face, with handsome large Ionic 
columns at its angles, upholding a ponderous entab- 
lature; while on its flat summit stand the customary- 
Venetian bell, and bronze figures wielding hammers. 
What a reverence and admiration all these towns must 
have had for their overlord, to reproduce so faithfully 
and repeatedly the various features of her Piazza of 
St. Mark. 

Higher still than the bell and its beaters rises the 
great castle upon its eminence, gazing proudly down 
through a hundred windows upon the square at its feet, 
commanding the whole city and the country far and 
wide. But castle as it is still always called, the appel- 
lation is a misnomer; for the original fortress,^ dating 
from Roman days, was destroyed in the quattrocento, 
and the height recrowned in 1517 by this Renaissance 
palace, built by Giovanni Fontana. So that instead of 
a ponderous fortress greeting my eyes, I saw a palatial, 
six-storied, flat-roofed edifice, faced with plaster now 
decaying, and endowed with a severe sameness by its 
countless square-headed windows, which had no other 
ornamentation than simple ledges and cornices. Its 
only unusual feature was the lofty basement, rising to 
half the total height and separated from the piano 
nohile by a cornicione fully as heavy as the top one. 

The church of the castle was visible on its right, de- 
tached, marked for a church only by the huge cam- 
panile, which rose in several long divisions to an ornate 
Renaissance belfry, with a pointed dome topped by a 
monstrous, flying, bronze angel, far above the palace- 
roof. Around the palace were also visible the green 
lawns of the hilltop, and bunches of trees on each side. 

^ In that building dwelt the patriarchal rulers of Udine, from the thir- 
teenth century. 



288 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Within the huge building — once occupied by the stately 
Venetian Government, and its political prisoners, 
groaning in the underground dungeons left from an- 
cient days — now remained nothing whatever, as I was 
told, except the city's collections of art and antiquity. 

I lowered my eyes again to the piazza, and advanced 
upon the terrace to examine the imposing lines of 
sculpture that make it radiant. If the Anglo-Saxon 
people in general once realized the incalculable bene- 
fit rendered to a city by an abundance of heroic monu- 
ments, which not only make it beautiful and beloved, 
but awaken and sustain in the inhabitants sentiments 
of civic patriotism and ambition, some of their wealthy 
philanthropists would certainly divert their money to 
such embellishments. Here was a whole city made im- 
pressive by the inspiring monuments of its piazzas. 
Before the great central archway of the portico, 
reared a fine equestrian statue of Victor Emmanuel, 
in bronze, upon a lofty marble pedestal, which was 
covered with faded wreaths deposited by patriots. 
At the middle of the northern end rose a splendid marble 
Goddess of Peace, throned high above an encircling 
stairway, — a memento of the pact of Campo Formio. 
Here, too, upon the front corners of the terrace, were 
those happy reminders of the glorious Venetian Re- 
public, her invariable twin columns, — bearing the 
Lion of St. Mark and the Goddess of Justice. Colossal 
figures of Hercules and Csecus guarded the main ap- 
proach, and an oval marble fountain of three basins 
cooled the dazzling air with its tinkling waters. 

But the greatest, loveliest, and most memorable 
factor of this whole scene I have purposely left un- 
touched until the end, — the fairylike palace of rose- 
and-white marbles facing it upon the left, more beauti- 
ful than the loggia, the clock-tower, the sculptured 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 289 

monuments, — more striking than all of them to- 
gether. It was a structure of dreamland, an edifice 
of seafoam thrown up by the waves and shining rose- 
ate in a sunset glow; it was another of those marvel- 
ous buildings which the Italians of Gothic times 
created for their town halls and ducal palaces, to 
make us wonder to-day at so much loveliness in solid 
matter, — of that wonderful company which includes 
the Palazzi Municipali of Perugia, Siena, Verona, 
and Cremona, — of the unsurpassable type of the 
Doge's palace at Venice. As the good old Udinese 
copied their clock-tower from St. Mark's, so also, 
when they built a new Municipio in 1457, they re- 
produced on a smaller scale the sublime lines and 
coloring of the Palazzo Ducale. 

This exquisite specimen of Gothic work is more a 
scintillating jewel than a majestic monument, — a 
ruby whose gleaming rays illumine joyously the whole 
piazza, and to enjoy a sight of which right willingly 
I would send a friend all the way from Venice. It is 
the contrast and complement of that other palatial 
wonder, the Basilica of Vicenza. All around its first 
story runs the splendid Gothic colonnade of the doges, 
but more delicate and ethereal, on more slender, fluted 
columns, with elaborate foliage caps; between them 
extend the sections of a superb Gothic balustrade, its 
railing of white marble, and its dainty balusters of 
alternate serpentine and Carrara, Within is one great 
loggia covering the whole ground floor, whose pave- 
ment is elevated a half-dozen steps above the street, 
— which are arranged semicircularly before the two 
central arches. The approach at the southern end, 
where the ground is lower, is by a handsome double 
stairway, having the same dainty balustrade. 

Over the red-and-white voussoirs of the pointed 



290 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

arches rise the sheer marble walls to the lofty cornice, 
in alternate horizontal strata of rose color and white, 
broken only by the few but carefully balanced win- 
dows, three on each side. The central of these win- 
dows on the front side consists of a colonnade of five 
trefoil arches on marble shafts, and has one of the most 
perfect Gothic ringhiera balconies existing, supported 
on voluptuously modeled corbels, with a railing con- 
taining panels of geometrical open tracery. The other 
windows are of similar graceful construction, with 
three trefoil arches instead of five. 

Still another winsome feature is the marble Ma- 
donna standing at the southeastern angle over the 
corner column, under a luxurious Gothic canopy 
covered with crockets, finials, and spire, holding her 
Babe in one hand and a model of a fortress in the other, 
— a very fine early work, which has always been 
especially revered by the Udinese. 

I entered the wide, darkened loggia by the front 
steps, and found its roof upheld by rows of columns 
similar io those of the fagade, supporting rounded 
arches; here had been the meeting-place of the people 
for hundreds of years, — and a number of groups were 
at this moment conversing loudly in different bays, 
with a continual going to and fro. On the rear wall to 
the right I found the famous Madonna of Pordenone, 
so dear to the inhabitants, — a frescoed figure of truly 
wonderful loveliness, with something of a Raphael- 
esque contour to her rounded cheeks, and a softness 
of well-modeled flesh, a grace of posture, a sweetness 
of expression, quite impossible to conceive without 
beholding. The Virgin with her Child stands before 
a curtain, which just permits a glimpse to the rear of 
a distant hill-town on its rocky crag, backed by ser- 
rated mountains. In a separate compartment just 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 291 

below, before a marble pillar in a different landscape, 
three ravishing child-angels are making music with 
song and psaltery. Restored it is, of course, but very 
skillfully, in the original, softly bright, harmonious 
colors, broadly massed. Its seraphic beauty lights up 
the whole loggia, and no one who has seen it can deny 
the power of graceful, pietistic repose to its author, 
nor refuse him a debt of gratitude. Some critics — 
wrongly, I think — claim that the painter was Gio- 
vanni da Udine. Pordenone once executed another 
Madonna for this piazza, upon the wall of the opposite 
loggia; but I looked for it in vain, and only discovered 
it eventually in the civic museum. 

A conflagration in 1876 quite gutted the upper story 
of the Municipio, so that the fine, heavy, oak-beamed 
roof which I now saw was a very recent reproduction 
of the original. A passage arching the narrow street 
in the rear led me to a large lofty hall in the annex; 
this was a still older building, that has always served 
for municipal purposes, containing the oflSces of vari- 
ous departments ; and its great hall has been for count- 
less generations the principal assembly chamber of 
the city. Around its walls hung many canvases, in 
several rows, including a large number of unusual size. 
None of them were very noteworthy, but the best of 
the Renaissance works were a Gathering of the Manna 
by Grassi, the Udinese, a Last Supper by Amalteo, 
and Saints Agostino and Girolamo by Martini, — which 
Lanzi calls remarkable for its power of coloring. 

I found here a functionary willing to show me the 
upper floor of the Municipio, above the loggia, and we 
ascended to it by a marble staircase beside the pass- 
age. There were four large chambers, with fine hard- 
wood floors and furniture, and hideous arabesques 
covering the lofty walls and ceilings, the results of the 



292 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

reconstruction; they contained plenty of those green 
baize tables which Italian officialdom is so fond of, 
and ponderous armchairs arranged formally for the 
sittings of councils and committees. Upon the lower 
parts of the walls were a few old canvases, of no 
importance; of which the most noticeable was a 
Pomponio Amalteo, representing Christ appearing to 
some kneeling, pompous officials in very sumptuous 
dress. 

After this I left the piazza for the Mercato Vecchio, 
which extends from its northwestern angle, in the same 
direction, along the base of the hill, — rather a very 
broad street than a piazza proper. It is lined with old, 
four-storied, stuccoed buildings, rising upon continu- 
ous colonnades, having shops and caffes in the ground 
floors and faint traces of bygone frescoes on their 
fagades. One block to the west of it I came to the 
Mercato Nuovo, where the trade of produce now con- 
gregates, under the customary canvas roofs and um- 
brellas, — a smaller, square-shaped piazza, quite 
crowded by the merchants and buying housewives. 
In their midst rose another statue of the Virgin, an- 
other splashing fountain, and at the farther end a 
strange but elegant, old well-head, with four marble 
columns, and a fifth upon their summit. Ah, those 
countless, charming, picturesque old market-places of 
Italy, thronged with her warm-hearted people and 
filled with the products of their genius, — how the 
heart goes out to them, of one who has lived among 
them! 

At the western end of this piazza stands the Church 
of S. Giacomo, a handsome, Late-Renaissance edifice 
entirely sheathed with marble and highly decorated 
with sculpture; and upon an adjacent wall is an excel- 
lent old fresco of the Madonna. The Via Canciani 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 293 

leads thence southward to the Piazza Venti Settem- 
bre; and I followed it back to my hotel. 

Upon my next visit to the central piazza, I climbed 
the hillside to the castle. The entrance to the grounds 
was by a rusticated stone archway with Doric half- 
columns/ in the northeastern angle behind the God- 
dess of Peace; within which I found a driveway curv- 
ing up the slope alongside a fascinating, arcaded 
passage, consisting of a number of long flights of steps. 
These were arched over by masonry, and lined upon the 
left by a series of delightful Gothic arcades, consisting 
of trefoil, ogive arches in stucco, supported by marble 
columns with primitive foliage capitals. The steps 
were worn by centuries of climbers; and my thoughts 
reverted to all the myriads of visitors that had mounted 
here before me in long past ages, — in silken doublet 
and long-hose, velvet gown and feathered cap, and all 
the varying gay costumes left us only in pictures. 
Ah, what pictures must not those old arcades have 
seen, — what whisperings of love, and hatred, and 
ambition, what pomp of proud patricians, and misery 
of poor prisoners going to their doom! 

I mounted between the east end of the castle and the 
church, and on the farther, northern, side discovered 
a wide, grass-grown parade covering the summit, with 
the true fagade of the edifice looking down upon it; 
a grand, double, circular stairway of two stories led 
majestically to the principal portal, in the piano 
nobile. The custode, who dwelt in a little building be- 
side the church, sent his wife to conduct me over the 
palace, and she admitted me through a small doorway 
of the basement, into a large hall where doubtless the 

^ This finely proportioned structure, with its marked sense of power, 
was probably designed by Palladio upon his visit here in 1556, during 
which year it was erected. But there is nothing certain about it. 



294 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

guards once lounged. It was utterly denuded now, as 
were all the halls and chambers of the immense struc- 
ture. A number of the ground-floor rooms contained 
the city's collection of old sculpture and bits of archi- 
tecture, — looking deserted and forlorn amidst the 
lofty, echoing, cold walls. 

There was nothing remarkable here; but adjacent lay 
the entrance to the interesting old dungeons, hidden 
amongst the ancient foundations on which the present 
edifice was raised. I crept through those places 
of terrible memories by flickering candlelight, which 
revealed countless painful scratchings on the walls, of 
phrases and fragments of verse, — groans of dying 
unfortunates torn from them by their agony, of which 
every one represented unspeakable sufferings unto 
death. It was entirely dark at midday in those horrible 
stone boxes, where mortals had confined each other 
since the days of Rome, and where the Venetian Gov- 
ernment immured its political opponents. One needs 
occasionally to descend into some such oubliettes of 
past times, to be properly grateful for living to-day. 

We ascended to the great entrance hall of the pal- 
ace, in the centre of the 'piano nobile, directly above 
the guard hall and still more spacious; the principal 
portal opened from it, upon the top landing of the 
grand external staircase. I looked over its ponderous 
coffered ceiling, — richly gilded, the panels adorned 
with painted tableaux, — and its lofty walls covered 
with decadent Renaissance frescoes, arranged in cu- 
rious large scenes, more or less defaced, — imagining 
the countless brilliant gatherings which they had 
witnessed under the Venetian rule. How many and 
many a stately assembly of Friulan patricians had 
curtsied here in laced coat and periwig under the Gov- 
ernor's eagle eye, — in what an outward splendor of 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 295 

music and ceremony, with what an inner trembling 
at the remembrance of the black dungeons yawning 
beneath their tripping feet, and pulsating with the 
groans of dying wretches who had been their friends, 
their relatives, their brothers. The rule of the terrible 
Ten was omnipotent here as in Venice; and no man 
knew when a touch upon the shoulder might take him 
forever from human ken. 

The adjacent suites of chambers, in the western 
wing, were filled now with the city's collection of 
paintings: several rooms, first, containing specimens 
of the old Friulan masters, then others containing 
modern works left by recent legacies. They had been 
removed here but a few weeks ago from the Palazzo 
Bartolini beyond the Mercato Vecchio, — which still 
preserves the Municipal Library. It was not a large 
nor an impressive collection; but, like even the small- 
est museum of inexhaustible Italy, it had some works 
of such merit and enticement as to make the whole an 
agreeable memory. 

The first room held pictures of the earliest periods, 
both before and just after the institution of Venetian 
methods; chief and most pleasing among them being 
the two masterpieces of Girolamo da Udine, whose 
warm, golden tone and graceful, well-modeled, Bel- 
linesque figures were a striking contrast to the more 
primitive, stiff panels, resembling tapestries. One of 
the two represented S. Domenico, with six captivating 
girl-angels making melody, outlined against a sky of 
enchanting blueness, in a glowing harmony of colors; 
the other was Girolamo's Coronation of the Virgin, 
between the Magdalen and John the Baptist, — a 
work of most powerful spacing, effective disposition, 
and clear perspective, with figures of vigorous mould- 
ing and quiet dignity. The Eternal Father is portrayed 



296 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

as seated upon a simple cloth-covered form before a 
hanging velvet curtain, behind which to the far dis- 
tance stretches the Plain of Friuli, to its castled foot- 
hills and craggy Alps; the Madonna kneels at his right 
hand upon a lower step, with meek, downcast coun- 
tenance and folded hands, while the Almighty places 
a crown upon her coif; the two saints stand to right 
and left, and a tiny, chubby, winged cherub, perched 
upon the lowest step, is handling meditatively a lute. 
The wide free spaces, the warm, dreamy tone, the 
strong, simply-robed figures, the broad, rich masses 
of color, all conjoin to make this an exceptional work, 
and overshadow its lack of expression. 

In the second room the principal object was Porde- 
none's Madonna, which formerly adorned the public 
loggia, — a lovely female form, gentle and winsome, 
of his usual powerful moulding and vivid flesh-color. 
In the third room I was struck by a piece of silk 
embroidery surpassing anything in that line I had 
ever seen, — an extraordinary curiosity and artistic 
chef d'oeiivre combined; it was a veritable painting in 
thread, showing a pair of lions couchant, of most vivid 
lifelikeness and vigorous grace. Here was also an ex- 
traordinary modern canvas, that seized the beholder 
with its tragic expressiveness like a breathless vise : it 
represented a lone man and woman upon a mountain- 
top, clasping each other with agonized, terror-stricken 
faces, surrounded by the advancing flood, beaten by 
the thundering elements ; — a profound accomplish- 
ment, executed by F. Giuseppini, who died in 1862. 
The remaining four or five rooms contained indiffer- 
ent etchings, woodcuts, engravings, and ordinary 
modern paintings. The view from the windows of all 
of them was impressive, — over the red-tiled roofs 
and campanili of the city below, across the adjacent, 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 297 

barren-looking plain with its glistening river-beds, to 
the rounded foothills and towering mountains. 

On the following day I set out from the central 
piazza for an examination of the quarter east of the 
hill, following the Via Manin, which runs easterly from 
the place's southeastern angle, along the southern 
base of the height. It is a short street, and halfway 
upon the left I passed a delightful Old Renaissance 
palace covered with a reddish-brown stucco; its far- 
projecting wooden roof shadowed a fine colonnaded 
window of five arches, with marble shafts, and double 
marble balconies of handsome design; while the plas- 
ter held inset below it an ancient relief of the Madonna, 
Child, and 'putti. The way debouched into a bay at 
the southern angle of the vast Piazza d' Armi, which 
I saw stretching a third of a mile before me to the 
northwest, adorned in the centre with a large oval 
grove of trees, and holding a second, triangular grove 
in its far apex. It reminded me of Padua's Prato della 
Valle, and shimmered with the same fierce sunniness. 

I crossed it, however, to the curious Church of the 
Beata Vergine delle Grazie on the eastern side, enjoy- 
ing in passing the unusual beauty of the trees, — horse- 
chestnuts, and planes of magnificent dimensions, one 
of the latter being fully six feet in diameter. The 
church rose at the top of an imposing flight of steps, 
with a classical fagade of four mammoth Corinthian 
stucco columns. Adjacent on the right were some 
charming old cloisters, of Gothic arches sustained by 
primitive columns, with bits of early frescoing in the 
lunettes, and shapely palms of several species embel- 
lishing the court. 

The interior of the edifice proved to be one glitter- 
ing mass of modern bright decoration, carried to the 
extreme, — the ceiling covered with gay-hued fres- 



298 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

coes, the walls with gilding, plaster statues, painted 
wooden reliefs, and other frescoes, of appalling poor- 
ness and number. It was another "miracle-working" 
church, — which accounted for all these riches, that 
the priests had reaped from the credulous pilgrims. 
Two rooms, on the right and left immediately after 
entering, were hung to the ceiling, upon their four 
walls, with objects of every sort supposed to have 
been given by thankful, cured suppliants,. — crutches, 
wooden limbs, wooden heads, frames containing 
chromos, harrowing pictures of sick-beds, crude repre- 
sentations of the miracles performed, — thousands of 
them, and doubtless in great part true witnesses; 
Lourdes shows us what implicit faith will do. A con- 
tinuous stream of peasants was coming and going, 
with awed faces, many of them purchasing mementoes 
and trinkets for deposit from the vendors upon the 
steps. And the object of all this worship and belief 
was but an old canvas painted with a figure of the 
Madonna, hidden behind an embroidered cloth over 
the altar in the left chapel. 

At the southern end of the Piazza d' Armi stands 
the Tribunale, or court-house, and upon its south side, 
facing westward over a little park running southeast- 
erly from the end of the Via Manin, the huge palace 
of the Archbishop.^ This was the building to which 
I now bent my steps, to see the frescoes of Giovanni 
Battista Tiepolo and Giovanni da Udine, decorating 
its piano nohile. The Bishop was luckily away in the 
mountains, and a sole caretaker left in charge, who 

^ This small but pleasant Giardino Pubblico, with its groves of cypresses, 
preserves in its knolls some fragments of the embankment of the earliest 
eastern city-wall, with the latter's moat — the Roggia Canal — still flow- 
ing softly by. The palace was a late cinquecento erection of the Archbishops 
— no longer Patriarchs and rulers, owing to the Venetian dominion ; in it 
at different times stayed Pope Pius VI, Napoleon I, and Victor Emmanuel. 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 299 

conducted me up the grand winding staircase of six 
flights, with pardonable pride. Upon the ceihng of its 
well was one of Tiepolo's characteristic circular fres- 
coes, this time representing the Fall of the Angels, — 
a work of real power, in which the falling, whirling 
forms seemed to rush downward before the eyes. 

The grand suite was upon the third-story front, as 
often in Friuli, commencing with a large throne-room 
opening from the stairway, which was adorned with 
portraits of all the Bishops of Udine, and the Patriarchs 
of Aquileia before them, back to the first tenant of the 
oflSce. The ceiling-painting was modern. But the ad- 
joining so-called gallery, or reception-room, contained 
six paintings by Tiepolo: a "tondo" upon the ceiling, 
showing the Sacrifice of Isaac, and five scenes from 
the same story upon the walls, of which two were in 
brown monochrome. The largest and best picture 
was Jacob appearing to Rachel and her sister, though 
the figures of the Sacrifice were the better moulded, 
and its angel, an alluring apparition. The tangibility 
was in general rather poor, and the colors too light, but 
the composition was good and the dramatic action 
and expression surprisingly so. The second chamber, 
or Sala Rossa, contained Tiepolo's remaining labors, — 
a large Judgment of Solomon upon the centre of the 
ceiling, beautifully colored, well grouped and posed, 
but not individually graceful nor realistic, — and four 
figures of prophets in the corners. 

The third room, or state bedchamber, was charac- 
teristically adorned by Giovanni da Udine, with five 
of his customary little panels, in the centre and corners 
of the ceiling, — which often make one feel that he 
must have distrusted his power to draw large figures. 
They represented scenes from the life of Christ, — the 
giving of the keys to Peter (central), the multiplication 



300 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

of the loaves and fishes (best of the lot, with a noble 
form of the Saviour), the meeting with the Centurion, 
Jesus preaching from a boat in the lake, and Judas 
receiving the betrayal money. They were second-class 
work, showing clearly that little pains had been taken. 
I was more interested in the fourth chamber, — a 
fine large library, lined with handsome cases and count- 
less old tomes, with a delicate oak balustrade around 
the second story, surmounted by graceful wood-carved 
putti, and a bright modern ceiling-painting. It was 
an interesting example of the delightful old libraries 
hidden in private palaces all over Italy : — 

For Italy 's the whole earth's treasury, piled — 
With coins of scholars' fancy, which, being rung 
On workday counter, still sound silver-proof: 
In short, with all the dreams of dreamers young.^ 

The most pleasing sight of all came last, in the 
private chapel off the throne-room, whose pala con- 
sisted of a delectable Madonna by Palma Giovane, in 
partial chiaroscuro, her child standing upon a little 
cloud upheld by a baby-angel; — a splendidly modeled 
work, with rich, soft, flesh-portrayal, of exceeding grace 
and quiet feeling. When I went down I noticed the 
courtyard in the rear, — a large space surrounded by 
a stately stone wall crowned with many marble 
statues, and holding in its centre a lovely Old Renais- 
sance well-top. The building itself was of no interest 
externally, the huge f agade being of plainest, unadorned 
stucco. I sat down for a while in the Public Garden be- 
fore it, — a pretty, cooling spot, consisting of varied, 
tree-clad knolls and dells, through which flowed the 
shining strip of the Roggia Canal. ^ On its western side 

^ Mrs. Browning, Casa Guidi Windows. 

2 Southward the garden merges into the broad Via Gorgni, which, 
occupying the site of the earliest walls, and still accompanied by the moat 
(the Roggia), bends round in a wide curve to' the Piazza Garibaldi in the 
southwest. 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 301 

rose amongst shady groves the irregular old brick mass 
of the Prefettura. One block west of this again, on the 
east side of the Via Posta, a little south of the Duomo, 
I found, later on, a private palace even more interest- 
ing to me than the Arcivescovado. 

This was the Palazzo Tinghi, upon which Pordenone 
once lavished his genius, both inside and out; the paint- 
ings are unusually preserved, and, though unknown to 
the guidebooks, constitute one of Udine's principal 
sights. The fagade was entirely painted by that great 
master, about 1527; and sufficient remains to show us, 
for once, how dazzling the effect of such work must 
have been. It extends over all the abundant wall- 
spaces, — between the windows, over the arcade, as 
courses between the stories, and as a frieze beneath 
the eaves; the different backgrounds being tinted in 
delightful soft monochromes of light brown, ochre, 
reddish-brown, white, and golden brown, — upon which 
appear happily contrasted life-size figures of Greek 
gods and goddesses, mythological heroes, and antique 
groupings, each in a single color harmonious with its 
setting, — white forms on ochre, brown on white. In 
the frieze, prettiest of all, a series of charming white 
figures in ancient costume extends the whole width of 
the house, engaged in making sacrifice upon altars, and 
other pursuits, all exquisitely outlined against a back- 
ground of golden brown. Between the third-floor win- 
dows are four panels of similar scenes, whose white- 
robed participants shine like cameo-cuts against 
gleaming gems, — of lavender glow, of orange-brown, 
of rose-red, and emerald-green. Judged by this lin- 
gering effect, the whole classic composition must have 
coruscated in its early years like a transplanted rain- 
bow. 

As for the inside paintings, I was informed that the 



302 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

chambers of the piano nobile embellished by Porde- 
none had been during the centuries entirely built over, 
— all but one room, in the very centre, which was now 
used by a certain dentist, Doctor Clanfero. He proved 
to be a most pleasant man, and made me free of the 
apartment. Here I had the pleasure of beholding a pri- 
vate salon decorated by a great master, — a rare treat, 
worth many of the best canvases. It was a little square 
room, with the lower parts of the walls covered by 
three elaborate landscapes and an Annunciation, prob- 
ably from other hands; but the magnificent frieze was 
indubitably by Pordenone, — a brilliant, superbly sus- 
tained series of frolicking putti, intertwined with vines 
and grotesques, the design of perfect grace and regu- 
larity, the flowers and leaves exquisitely drawn, the 
lovely, fresh cherubs delightful beyond words. Through 
the twining verdure ran a multitude of unnatural 
but vividly realistic beasts and birds, with long necks 
and human lineaments, ugly and fascinating. By the 
same master were the two sphinxes at the sides of the 
landscape on the right wall, — which had an uncanny 
likeness to the side look of his feminine saints, — and 
the two similar weird beasts above them, with male 
heads. Never had I seen anything quite equal, in its 
like, to this grotesque but joyous and bewitching fan- 
tasy. Remembering Pordenone's paysage at his birth- 
place, these landscapes were . possibly also his work, 
with their pleasing aggregation of lakes and woods and 
mountains, overlooked by enchanted castles, peopled 
by uncouth rustics gamboling in the foreground. 

I discovered an interesting short walk through the 
southern portion of the city, starting down from 
Piazza Venti Settembre to Piazza Garibaldi, — so 
called after the bronze statue of the Liberator occupy- 
ing its centre, with a drawn sword under his folded 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 303 

arm. Before this was the house from which the "altis- 
simo eroe" spoke to the Udinese, on March 1, 1867, 
those " words of patriotism and glory " which the tablet 
records; behind it was the large Renaissance building 
of the Institute of Technology, having a central, higher 
pavilion faced with eight two-storied half-columns 
and pilasters. Round the corner to the southwest I 
found a very prepossessing, modern Renaissance, 
red-brick house, with handsome marble windows and 
loggia, and a curious frieze of painted festoons. 

The Via Gorgni ran thence to the east, which I fol- 
lowed to the church and extensive cloisters of S. 
Spirito. The former was nothing; but the latter, now 
secularized and occupied by tenants, were bounded 
by tall double colonnades, — the lower of flat arches, 
the upper of stucco pillars supporting a wooden, tiled 
roof, — altogether very quaint and picturesque. A 
block to the north of this, next the huge structure of 
the Ospedale Civile (it is always a wonder, what great 
and well-equipped hospitals these small Italian cities 
have), I visited the church of the Franciscans, — of no 
account externally, but endowed with a resplendent 
high-altar piece by Pellegrino da S. Daniele. It was a 
Madonna standing upon clouds, which were upheld 
by various saints, — a very darkly toned work, with 
finely moulded flesh of a rich reddish tinge. Over 
another altar was a canvas by Amalteo. 

Another and last walk took me into the northern 
quarter, starting from the exceptionally wide Via 
Zanoni, — a block west of the Mercato Nuovo, — 
which represents a section of the original western city- 
wall. Here also, the old moat still flows along its side, 
— an arm of the Roggia, — laving the bases of the 
dwellings in Venetian style; and to reach the street 
each house has a little bridge thrown over the water. 



304 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

A number of housewives, as I gazed, were kneeling upon 
the sidewalk washing the family linen before their 
own doors; in other sections I had seen a similar use 
of the canal waters at the backs of the dwellings. 
Near by, on the street leading north from the Mer- 
cato Nuovo, I found the little Church of S. Pietro 
Martire, containing an elegant example of Tiepolo's 
peculiar genius as a ceiling painter, — a large fresco 
of the Madonna in glory, with Saints Francis and 
Catherine and a number of lovely angels, all suspended 
upon clouds above a templed city, in which S. An- 
tonio is visible dispensing alms. This church has also 
a living wonder, — the only Italian sacristan who 
refuses tips, and yet shows his building courteously. 
The painting by Carpaccio which used to be here I 
could obtain no trace of. 

This street curves round to the north end of the 
Mercato Vecchio, at the northwest base of the castle 
hill, looming steeply overhead, — near the so-called 
Casa di Risparmio, and several other very old build- 
ings with, wide-projecting wooden eaves, showing re- 
mains of extensive frescoing. On one of them linger 
still three clear heroic figures, of gods or saints (about 
the same to the polytheistic lower classes), possessed 
of considerable tactile value and well proportioned, 
with flesh of that usual, queer, reddish-brown tinge. At 
the very end of the street, in the shadow of the castle, 
I came to that Palazzo Bartolini which contained the 
library, and, formerly, the art collection; upon looking 
it over, the pleasant directors of the institution showed 
me a magnificent canvas of Palma Giovane which had 
not yet been transferred. 

It was a very large work, perhaps twelve feet by 
six, representing St. Mark with the standard of Udine 
before the Virgin with her Child, an elderly saint in 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 305 

priest's cassock, and a number of very winsome an- 
gels, while to the right through a window was visible 
in the distance the castle hill, with the loggia and 
clock-tower at its foot; — a grand composition, of the 
first rank, with perfectly modeled figures of high grace 
and expressiveness, in a dark and hazy atmosphere 
that lent enchantment, sparkled with golden lights 
and romantic feeling, and softened the glow of the 
sumptuous hues. — By the time this is read, it will 
doubtless have been hung in the castle. 

From this point the prominent Via Gemona runs 
northward to the gate of the same name in the centre 
of the northern city wall. Following it, I came soon 
to a small piazza dominated on the left by the large 
Palazzo Caiselli, inhabited for many generations by 
one of Udine's chief families; its fagade was another 
example of how strangely imposing the old Italian 
palaces can be, though having but simple stuccoed 
walls and unadorned windows. It comes, I believe, 
from the careful balancing of the openings, their just 
proportion to the solid, and the invariable heavy cor- 
nice full of dignity. This one contains some works of 
Tiepolo and a Tintoretto of repute; but the noble pro- 
prietor was away in the mountains, and I could not 
be admitted for lack of his permission. 

A little beyond, on the east side, loomed up the 
majestic palazzo of the Banca d' Italia, a splendid 
Renaissance structure, with long-and-short rustica- 
work at the angles, rusticated half -columns along the 
first story, and Corinthian half-columns above; though 
of two divisions only, its enormous eaves projected 
at a height equal to half a dozen of our modern 
puny floors. The stately, columned entrance-hall, 
with its impressive stairway, framed a vista of the 
luxuriant garden in the rear, whose marble statues 



306 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

gleamed against masses of tangled verdure, percolated 
by a silver stream of flowing water. 

Finally, I reached, upon the same side, the interest- 
ing, quaint, little house once inhabited and decorated 
by Giovanni da Udine, and still cherished for his sake 
by the faithful people, — as a tablet witnessed. Its 
ground story consisted of the usual arcade, but on 
the upper story the master had expended his fertile 
fancy in exceptional lines: at the sides of the one real 
window were painted false ones, — of circular shape, 
representing medieval glass in small round panes, — 
and six pretty painted panels with classic mouldings, 
of which one contained a most engaging little relief 
of the Madonna and Child. The view which Giovanni 
enjoyed from this residence was surprisingly pleasant: 
the long straight street stretched on to the distant 
gateway, paralleled on the right by a splashing stream, 
that washed the old house-fronts and turned a heavy 
mill-wheel; and far above the arched gate loomed the 
dark flanks of the wooded Alps near at hand, wafting 
fresh bneaths of the free, pine-scented breezes from 
their alluring summits. 

Amidst those very hills, sheltered in the noble val- 
ley of the Tagliamento near its entrance upon the 
plain, nestle the two picturesque old towns of Gemona 
and Venzone; which contain various pictures of the 
early Friulan masters, well worth visiting to any lover 
of the art. S. Daniele also, in the foothills to the north- 
west, holds in its Cathedral a fine altar-piece of Por- 
denone, representing the Trinity, and in its Church 
of S. Antonio, that magnificent series of frescoes which 
have given Pellegrino his chief title to fame. I did not 
upon this occasion visit either of these places, for they 
are strictly hill-towns, and my researches were con- 
fined to the Italian plain. Nor did I for the same rea- 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 307 

son go to Grade or Aquileia, for those are practically 
sea-towns, and part of Austrian territory. But no un- 
confined traveler should omit the sight of their most 
interesting relics, — their wonderful Romanesque ca- 
thedrals of countless age, their remains of Roman 
temples, bath's, and palaces, their ancient mosaics, 
sculptures, monuments, glassware, metal-ware, cotta- 
ware, jewels, and artistic objects of every class, their 
delightful medieval frescoes and carvings, and their 
Renaissance paintings and chisel-work, including the 
beautiful pala by Pellegrino. 

As for the latter artist, a journey to S. Daniele is 
not necessary to become thoroughly acquainted with 
his genius and personality; that can be accomplished 
through his works in Udine, combined with those in 
the most important of all the neighboring Italian 
places, — Cividale. To Cividale then I went, when I 
had finished my walks in the city; but not for Pelle- 
grino alone, — far from it. Cividale has many other 
important interests; its historical buildings and re- 
mains date from all four periods: from the days of the 
Roman Forum Julii, the fortified gateway of the Alps; 
from those of the powerful Lombard capital, under 
Gisulf and his successors; from those of the patri- 
archate, under the later dukes and counts, and under 
the sovereign sway of the archbishops ; and from those 
of the Venetian dominion, with its edifices and artistic 
treasures of the Renaissance. Cividale especially con- 
tains many rare relics of the Lombard and Frankish 
period, probably beyond those of any other place, 
and, above all, the extraordinary Lombard Chapel of 
S. Peltrudis, which is one of the greatest memorials 
of that race.^ 

^ Gisulf placed his seat of power at Cividale in 568, and ruled there very 
ably until 611, when he was slain, together with most of his chieftains, in 



308 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

The little city, nowadays possessed of but ten thou- 
sand inhabitants, has a peculiarly interesting situation 
at the very foot of the wall of the Julian Alps, — the 
most oriental city of Italy, at the very beginning (or 
end) of its vast northern plain. It lies almost directly 
east of Udine, about ten miles distant, at the mouth 
of the defile of the Natison River. 

I started out early one morning by taking the tram 
from the central piazza of Udine down the long main 
street to the Porta Aquileia, — stopping off shortly 
before reaching the battlemented, towered gate to 
examine the Church of S. Pietro which was passed; 
for it contained the final specimen of Pellegrino in the 
city. Then I took a local train of aged little cars at the 
station, and rattled unevenly over the plain, across 
the glistening stony beds of the Torre and the Matina, 
to the foot of the advancing mountains. Cividale 
Station proved to be a half-mile from the centre of the 
town, and a kind priest showed me the way to the 
latter through the winding narrow streets. The central 
piazza was adorned with a fountain surmounted by a 
statue of a female armed with a Roman cuirass, and 
was surrounded by arcaded houses and market-stalls. 

heroically resisting the attack of the fierce Avars upon the city. In 737, 
under the reign of Duke Pemmone, Calisto the Patriarch effected a coup- 
de-main: being no longer able, like his predecessors, to reside in Aquileia 
on account of the harassing attacks of the Byzantines, he had shortly 
before removed to the Castle of Cormons, which proved altogether too 
small for his state; taking advantage of a temporary absence of the Duke 
from Cividale, he suddenly descended upon the city, forcibly ejected the 
Bishop Amatore from the vescovado, and made himself at home. Nor did 
the Duke dare to interfere on his return, — when Calisto had already com- 
menced the erection of the grand church and the Baptistery of S. Gio- 
vanni, in commemoration of his exploit. Thus strangely was installed the 
Patriarchate at Cividale; which took up the reins of temporal government 
when they dropped from the hands of the later Prankish Counts, and 
continued to hold sway there until the removal to Udine in the latter part 
of the thirteenth century. 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 309 

One of the houses was of fair Gothic design, with 
pointed stone arches and painted panels above them. 
The place appeared to have died long, long ago; 
hardly a living being was in sight, and those that were, 
were aged women drawing water. The piazza lay a 
number of blocks west of the river, which ran to the 
south; immediately on the east I came to another 
open space, fronted by the Municipio on the right and 
the Duomo and Arcivescovado on the left. 

The Palazzo Municipale was a little building of 
red-and-white marble, with the usual ground-floor 
loggia, built of Gothic arches and adorned with 
plaques to the memory of Garibaldi and Victor Em- 
manuel; and it had a curious outside stairway to the 
upper floor. Beyond it stretched a row of very old 
dwellings of a picturesque reddish-brown color. The 
Cathedral ^ was a huge edifice of stuccoed walls, recon- 
structed in the quattrocento, with a stone f agade, of mixed 
styles, completed by Pietro Lombardo about 1502; — 
the lower part, with its three arched doorways, being 
Gothic in type, while the upper contained a central, 
Renaissance window of three lights, and a rococo 
gable. Beside it on the right rose a short and very 
heavy campanile, of stone and composite, having a 
clock-face and the usual open belfry. The Bishop's 
Palace was adjacent on the church's left rear, fronting 
the northern end of the piazza with a large fagade of 
Late-Renaissance design; it rose upon a stout arcade, 
bearing imbedded jn its upper plaster the remains of a 
relief of the Venetian Lion, and a very old and curious 
stone Madonna. 

' The earlier church was the one commenced by Calixtus in 737; be- 
hind it he built his huge and famous palace, now vanished, which contained 
eighty rooms and spacious halls, magnificently decorated with mosaics 
and marbles. 



310 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

This place was more dead than the other. The 
Duomo was locked up, the sacristan gone to Udine; 
and I had a long task finding a living person with one 
of its keys. When I finally entered, I found the in- 
terior very spacious and handsome, — three mighty 
stone columns on each side, with Romanesque cap- 
itals, dividing the lofty, round-arched nave from the 
slightly lower aisles with their Gothic vaulting, the 
pavements being of gray-and-white marbles, the walls 
of stucco with gray stone trimmings. In the first bay 
of the right aisle stood one of the most interesting 
Lombard relics, the ancient Baptistery of Calixtus (or 
Calisto), — the very font which he had constructed 
for his new church, upon his arrival in 737. 

It was a small, octagonal, marble construction, of 
eight slight columns rising upon heavy vertical slabs, 
upholding solid arches cut from other slabs, with a 
flat roof, and no cornice, — all materials from some 
Roman temple, thus refitted together by the Lom- 
bards to make a covered font for immersion. The 
Corinthian capitals of the columns were unusually 
rich, having very prominent drooping leaves. The 
top slabs, of the arches, were cut with various long 
Latin inscriptions and figures; the bottom ones were 
engraved with divers designs, two being of Roman 
workmanship and four others of Lombard. These last 
four pieces, "executed in relief by lowering the surface 
of the stone — within which the details are indicated 
by furrows dug out,"^ have long excited interest 
among antiquarians for their exceptional grace of 
drawing and excellence of execution, — considering 
that period, when reliefs were generally so rude; the 
two front slabs have been removed for preservation to 
the city museum, and a later font installed within, of 

^ Perkins, Italian Sculptors. 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 311 

Renaissance form. The Lombard reliefs stiil remain- 
ing on the structure consist of the emblems of the 
Evangelists, and fanciful figures, — somewhat crude 
compared with modern work, but extraordinary for 
the eighth century. 

Over the central portal of the church stood the gilded 
equestrian statue to Marc, di Manzano, companion 
to that of Udine's Cathedral, which Venice erected in 
the early seicento ; below it was the Renaissance tomb 
of Nicolo Donato (1497), surmounted by statues of 
the Virgin and two saints. The aisles did not have the 
customary chapels, but altars affixed directly to the 
walls. Over the first altar to the left hung a fine 
Late-Renaissance canvas, by Pietro Meri, of 1671, 
— S. Giacomo, with Saints Stephen and Lorenzo at his 
sides; much like the Bassano work in its dark flesh 
and dusky atmosphere, and full of charming grace. 
The next altar held a specimen of Sebastiano Seccante, 
chief fellow- artist of Amalteo (1537) — another group 
of three saints (Joseph, Roch, and Sebastian) before a 
ruined Doric temple; a work of warm tone, mystical 
atmosphere, and grace of composition though not of 
figure. St. Joseph supports a fascinating Child, stretch- 
ing out his little fingers in blessing. Adjacent was a 
remarkable crucifix of the ninth century, found long 
afterward underground, made of painted wood, with 
a striking countenance, most lifelike and agonized; 
it shows that the Lombard sculptors could be realistic, 
on occasion. 

Over the third and fourth altars, respectively, were 
splendid examples of the two Palmas, nephew and 
uncle: the one an entrancing group of St. Elizabeth 
with four female companions, under the Cross in 
glory surrounded by pidti; the other a strong vision 
of the risen Saviour before the Magdalen, with the 



S12 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

sepulchre and its guarding angels to the right, and to 
the rear an extensive landscape of lake and town and 
mountain, glowing under a sunset sky, — not a can- 
vas of individual grace, but of superb tone, atmo- 
sphere, and coloring. There was a second Palma Gio- 
vane in the chapel to the left of the choir, — a dark 
and tragic stoning of St. Stephen, illumined by the 
dazzling figure of the martyr, — also one of his un- 
successful Last Suppers; and near them, a brilliant 
Renaissance marble altar of 1558, attractively adorned 
with sculpture, though having some modern additions, 
of vases and a cupola. 

The -pala of the high-altar is a famous silver ante- 
pendium of 1204; in its centre are the larger relieved 
forms, of the Madonna and several angels, — very fine 
for that early period, — and roundabout them, three 
rows of little saints, standing. Above it rises a silver 
crucifix of the same epoch. Near by, on the choir's 
left side, I saw the seventeenth-century throne of the 
Patriarchs, curiously plain, made of thin pieces of 
wood pointed red. How many and many a cardinal 
had sat proudly in that chair, and had his red stock- 
ings removed with awful ceremony. The choir was 
much elevated, above the ancient crypt, remodeled 
in the eighteenth century; and upon the right of the 
handsome, ascending, marble steps, stood the older 
patriarchal seat, of the eighth century, constructed of 
heavy, plain, marble slabs. Think of it, — a chair 
occupied by the same line of rulers for over eleven 
hundred years; it had been the simple throne of all 
those majestic warrior-prelates who swayed Friuli 
for so long, and fought with Grado and the Lagoons. 
It was wonderful to realize that every one of them had 
occupied this very seat, in all his grandiose medieval 
state, beginning with the fabulous St. Calixtus himself. 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 313 

An Amalteo and a fourth Palma Giovane adorned 
the chapel to the right of the choir, — representing 
the Annunciation, and a group of three saints. By it 
opened the door to the coretto, or little choir, used in 
the winter-time because of its superior warmth; it had 
a pala by G. B. Tiepolo, showing S. Antonio Abbate 
kneeling to the Virgin, — a curious picture, as his 
pietistic efforts usually were. Behind this room were 
the large sacristy and the Consiglio dei Canonici, or 
Cathedral Council. The second and third altar-pieces 
of the right aisle were school pieces of Palma Giovane, 
rather pleasing in their effects. 

Leaving the Duomo, I was led down a narrow way 
behind it to an ancient archway, which was probably 
a gate of the Roman walls; a little carpenter popped 
out of a workroom above it, and accompanied me 
without to the northern flank of the huge convent of 
the Ursulines, which stretches over a good part of that 
northernmost section of the city. Its outer wall is now 
the city boundary, and it backs upon the west bank of 
the river. On this spot originally stood a little Roman 
temple, which Peltrudis, the pious daughter of one of 
the Lombard dukes, in the eighth or ninth century 
converted into a chapel, and established a convent in 
the buildings adjacent. At her death she was buried 
in the chapel, and subsequently canonized; and the 
edifice bears her name to this day. 

Now the result of this good lady's actions was that 
the Lombard sculptures of the best period, with which 
she embellished this chapel in its transformation from 
a temple, were carefully preserved intact and in- 
violate during a thousand years thereafter, in the 
unbroken sanctuary of the Ursulines; while nearly all 
other artistic objects of the same epoch became de- 
stroyed, in the unending warfare of Friuli. At the 



S14 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

end of that millennium, when artists were lamenting 
that there were so few examples left of good Lombard 
sculpture, the town of Cividale suddenly awoke to the 
fact that it carried hidden in its breast the one undis- 
turbed religious building of Lombard days, with a 
wealth of their artistic work to be found nowhere else; 
so the signory condemned the edifice for public uses, 
detached it from the nunnery, and put the little car- 
penter in charge. 

He led me over the fields outside the northern wall, 
to the river-bank, opened a wicket on its very edge, 
and took me southward again, between the top of the 
bank and another wall, until we reached the chapel. 
The broad muddy waters of the Natison were rushing 
far below, deep-set between their high, clay shores, 
and along the farther side stretched the eastern sec- 
tion of the city, — the quarter of S. Martino; promi- 
nent among its scattered buildings was a huge, grim 
prison of modern look, and upon one of the first range 
of foothills towering close behind, black and menacing 
with theift endless forests, soared the keep and battle- 
ments of a great gray castle. Very picturesque was its 
appearance, unchanged with its hemming woods from 
the far-off days when Lombard workmen built it stone 
on stone; and my guide informed me that it was still 
occupied by the descendants of its first baron. 

We entered first an anteroom filled with Roman tab- 
lets and architectural fragments, and then what was 
once the portico of the temple, but is now the chapel's 
tribune, — for the heathen edifice looked toward the 
river, and the Christian one looks away from it. The 
four handsome marble columns that once adorned 
the portico, now upheld the rood-beam, and some old 
marble slabs, fixed between them, partly screened the 
tribune from the nave. This little nave had neither 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 315 

aisles nor side chapels, but a simple wagon-arclied roof; 
and over its plastered walls rioted the fragmentary 
lines of mostly vanished frescoes, — haloed golden 
heads, faint outlines of saintly forms, glimpses of feet 
or arms, and narrowed eyes just looking through the 
stains of centuries. 

The Byzantine saints upon the right wall are said 
to have been placed there in Peltrudis's time; those 
two wooden-looking figures high upon the left wall 
were added about the year 1000; and the rest were 
trecento products of the school of Giotto, on both walls 
and the vaulting and the three divisions of the trib- 
une. The curious, richly carved, Gothic, wooden stalls 
running round the nave, under a continuous, dainty, 
curving cornice of the same material, as high as the 
rood-beam, were also trecento work; and very pleasing 
were the countless varied arabesques cut and painted 
all over their backs and arms. The two extra-large 
seats on the entrance wall were for the abbess and her 
coadjutor; the two front rows of smaller seats, with 
low, uncomfortable backs, were for the novices; and 
I wondered to think how many, many generations of 
nuns and novices had sat in these same stalls, singing 
in the gloom, hidden far away here from the turbulent 
advancing world. 

But the great interest of this edifice lay in the upper 
part of its entrance wall, above the doorway and the 
cornice, where I saw the marvelous Lombard sculpt- 
ures which have so rightly astonished modern criti- 
cism. So amazing was this sudden revelation to me of 
what those long-gone medievals could do, that I could 
hardly believe I was beholding a work performed pre- 
vious to the trecento. It was all in plaster, of a peculiar 
whiteness and ductility, executed with such profound 
skill that one would deem it the product of an over- 



316 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ripe art, instead of a dark age of new beginnings. Im- 
mediately over the doorway extended a relieved cor- 
nice of very daintiest design, and a large ornamental 
arch just clear of the wall, consisting of the most 
exquisite openwork one could imagine. Of its four 
parallel parts or strata, the second and chief was an 
enchanting tracery of grapevine, whose leafy tendrils, 
in a series of. convolutions, carried bunches of most 
seductive contour; — a thing not only perfectly 
unique, but uniquely beautiful, which I have seen 
nothing quite like in all my wanderings. The first and 
third strata were peculiar, slender mouldings, and the 
fourth, or outer one, a succession of quaint forms re- 
sembling antique lyres. 

Over this archway was a strange, effective string 
course, or cornice across the wall, consisting of linked, 
starlike forms of delicate narcissi; upon it in the centre, 
a deep, narrow niche, framed by two sturdy columns 
with foliage caps and an openwork arch of flowering 
design; within this niche sat a stiff, wooden, bishop's 
image of tjie fourteenth century, of no account, — but 
on each side stood three wonderful tall figures in three- 
quarter relief, of Peltrudis and five sister saints. 

These statues of heroic size, with their little feet 
upon one cornice and their shapely heads beneath 
another of the same delicacy, were almost perfectly 
preserved after their existence of a thousand years, 
and exhibited a style of mien and garb, a method of 
dainty execution, not only utterly amazing considering 
their period, but absolutely different from those of any 
other age, — with an inexpressible kind of gracefulness 
and dignity that stands quite alone. What a thorough 
delight it was to find such an artistic treasure of an 
epoch considered savage, — to behold a method of 
sculpture emerging from long-past darkness which is 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 317 

entirely foreign to those we know, displaying forms 
and graces strange to our own ideals, yet brilliantly 
attractive. These unique figures were not of Roman 
workmanship, nor Byzantine, nor of the customary 
medieval styles; neither do they resemble any Re- 
naissance productions, nor the uncouth modelings left 
us elsewhere by the Lombards. They stand in a classi- 
fication all their own.^ 

The figures are exceptionally short-waisted, with 
long legs and disproportionately short arms ; but those 
that are belted wear gowns falling from just below the 
bust in Empire fashion, in long straight folds, to 
broad and richly embroidered hems, — bestowing the 
inevitable slender gracefulness of that mode; their 
hands, with drooping sleeves long from the elbow, 
hold crosses and chaplets pressed against their breasts ; 
their necks are wreathed with jeweled necklaces, and 
their locks adorned with royal crowns. These four 
are princesses. The other two, beside the central 
niche, are nuns swathed closely in robes of elegant 
drapery, with simple coifs across their heads, and hands 
outstretched in exhortation. 

In spite of the stiffness of the attitudes and the poor 
proportions of these forms, which betray the By- 
zantine influence of their period, they are unutterably 
captivating, with a haunting charm which defies analy- 
sis ; it must come partly from the exquisite drapery of 
the robes, partly from the fair, rounded limbs outlined 
beneath in wondrous moulding, partly from the gentle, 
maiden-like inturning of the knees (a stroke of true 
genius) , and, above all, from the serene loveliness of the 

^ "Nor do we know," says Mr. Perkins, "of any other so perfect ex- 
ample of that transition period in Italian architecture, when the Roman 
and Byzantine elements seemed to hesitate, before blending into the 
Romanesque." {Italian Sculptors.) 



318 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

virgin faces. How under heaven could a man of those 
rough times, in a country of barbarians Hke the Longo- 
bards, have learned to model such beautiful, stately 
heads, such pure, maidenly countenances of rapt 
expression, and such forms of alluring contour, dis- 
played beneath finely fitted and elegant robes! It is 
a miracle. But what is still more interesting is the 
originality of the style, which has a medieval direct- 
ness and simplicity in its lines, as well as a touch of 
Byzantine obliqueness and angularity, yet produces 
a vivid realism, and a weird, striking grace that re- 
minds me of nothing so much as the art of the Japan- 
ese. 

The sarcophagus in which S. Peltrudis was buried 
I saw still lying in a corner of the choir, with no notice- 
able ornamentation; it had been opened by the muni- 
cipality seven years previous, and some dust and frag- 
ments of bone beheld by the officials, who closed them 
up again. — I departed with my guide, left him at his 
Roman gateway, and walked to the bridge that car- 
ries the niain street over the river a little east of the 
Cathedral. It is a handsome bridge, of stone arches 
and piers and Renaissance workmanship, called the 
Ponte del Diavolo, — for no reason that I could find, 
except perhaps from the queer Italian fondness for 
naming such structures after his Satanic Majesty; and 
an imposing vista was given by it, of the rushing waters 
far below in their yellow banks, and the mountains 
towering black and grim above its distant bend. 

Just beyond it, on the left side of the way, rose 
the small churches of S. Martino and S. Maria dell' 
Ospedale (or de' Battuti). They were not remarkable 
externally, but contained several important objects. 
S. Martino held the famous altar of Duke Pemmone, 
which he presented on restoring the edifice, about 



UDINE AND CIVIDALE 319 

735, — covered with very crude reliefs, formerly 
colored, of the Epiphany, the Visitation, and Christ 
seated between angels, — quite the opposite of the 
fine art of S. Peltrudis. The three Magi are said to be 
portraits of Duke Rachis and Pemmone's two other 
sons. In S. Maria I found Cividale's superb master- 
piece of Pellegrino, over its high-altar, — a canvas of 
surpassing loveliness, divided into three compart- 
ments: in the centre was the Madonna with four 
female saints, and a child-angel at her feet between 
Saints Donato and John the Baptist, the former hold- 
ing a model of the city in his hands; while St. Sebas- 
tian stood in the right division, St. Michael in the 
left. It was a work of exquisitely soft tone and shad- 
ing, and deep, rich flesh- tints, of symmetrical group- 
ing, and dazzling beauty, both in the individual figures 
and in the tout ensemble; the figures were splendidly 
modeled, the coloring was a gorgeous scheme, and the 
features of the Madonna and her companions, quite 
enchanting. The only failure was in its lack of decided 
expression and feeling. Near by on the altar wall were 
hung two other little pieces by the same hand, — 
some winsome cherubs, that were probably fragments 
of a larger work. The local Church of S. Maria in 
Valle also contains a specimen of Pellegrino, inviting, 
but not as grand a picture as the former, which Lanzi 
says is "enumerated among the rarest paintings of 
Friuli." 

Returning to the Piazza of the Duomo, I visited after 
lunch the Museo Civico on its western side. It was a 
good-sized building of two floors, given up entirely 
to the various collections; and a truly wonderful ag- 
gregation they were, not merely for a place of Civi- 
dale's size, but for any city; for here lay the greatest 
collection of Lombard relics existing to-day, with the 



320 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

possible exception of the jeweled articles of Monza 
Cathedral. The two large halls of the ground floor 
were spread with architectural fragments, tablets, 
and sculptures of the Roman Forum Julii, and the 
larger, stone objects of the Lombard period, including 
rude monuments, weapons, and the remarkable sarco- 
phagus of the first duke, Gisulf . 

The learned custodian, Signor Mattia Banino, dis- 
played the results of many years of study in indicating 
to me the countless points of interest. Upstairs, the 
various rooms held in glass cases the smaller Lombard 
relics, of every branch of their civilization, and above 
all the precious articles that belonged to the Cath- 
edral treasury. Among these amazing proofs of Lom- 
bard artistic skill were the ivory pax, or plate, con- 
taining a relief of the Crucifixion, adorned with lapis- 
lazuli and many other gems, which Count Ursus of 
Ceneda was wont to kiss after mass in the customary 
sign of peace; a gospel with exquisite backs of carved 
wood; an ivory casket covered with reliefs of religious 
scenes and figures, of extraordinary merit; and many 
other delightful objects in ivory, wood, and silver, em- 
bellished with Byzantine-looking carvings or studded 
heavily with precious stones left from Roman days. 

There were fascinating works also of the later, me- 
dieval periods, including the very prayer-book used 
by St. Elizabeth of Thuringia, bound in elegant 
ivory backs and containing duecento miniatures, — 
the psalter that once belonged to Queen Gertrude of 
Hungary, and crucifixes, paxes, coffers, goblets, plates, 
of every kind of material and rich ornamentation. 
They opened to my eyes visions of royal luxury in the 
"Dark Ages," fairly overwhelming in artistic wealth, 
with princesses making everyday use of articles so 
precious that a queen of to-day would lock them up in 



TJDINE AND CIVTOALE 321 

her vaults. Here also were many of the various little 
articles, household and decorative, used in Imperial 
Roman days; coins of every epoch from the republican 
down, including one with a contemporary view of the 
newly finished Coliseum; glassware of Roman make 
and Venetian; medieval ivory sculptures by the score; 
and a lot of those glistening tomes executed in early 
monasteries, with page-settings and miniatures as 
brilliant as flashing jewels. Such were but a few of 
the contents of this treasure-house of olden times, 
that after so many centuries makes us its revelation 
of the artistic genius of the barbarian invaders, and of 
the darkest age of history.^ 

On the day following, I was once more aboard train, 
swiftly leaving sad Friuli behind me, retracing my 
steps without a stop to Treviso. There I took the 
branch-line to Vicenza, where connection was made 
with the main line to the west. And the close of a 
long day's journeying found me entering with the 
sinking sun a great city whose marble quays and streets 
blazed ruby-tinted in the after-glow, raising in my 
heart a psean of joy as I gazed at their beauty and 
grandeur, — the city of Italy that stands below only 
Rome and Florence and Venezia, — Verona la Degna. 

^ A final item of interest in regard to Cividale is that it was the birth- 
place of that wonderful actress, Adelaide Ristori ; and the house in which 
that event occurred can still be pointed out. 



CHAPTER IX 

VERONA LA DEGNA 

Am I in Italy? Is this the Mincio? 

Are those the distant turrets of Verona? 

And shall I sup where Juliet at the masque 

Saw her loved Montague, and now sleeps by him? 

— ROGEES. 

So felt I, as I stood once again in this greatest of 
the plain-towns, grandest of them all in her glorious 
past leadership in warfare, literature, and art, superbest 
in her situation, loveliest still in her miles of marble 
palaces and churches, her statued life, her school of 
painting surpassing all the others, her whole exposition 
of the finest accomplishments of man. Looking upon 
the broad Adige dashing mightily between her quays 
and castled hills, I reflected once more upon the tre- 
mendous-history which it had made and witnessed. 
That which Ruskin said of the inspiring city echoed 
from my heart: "Though truly Rouen, Geneva, 
and Pisa have been the centres of teaching to me, 
Verona has given the coloring to all they taught. She 
has virtually represented the fate and the beauty of 
Italy to me; and whatever concerning Italy I have 
felt, or been able with any charm or force to say, has 
been dwelt with more deeply, and said more earnestly, 
for her sake." ^ 

The greatness of Verona was the inevitable result 
of her situation, — as the place made inevitable the 
growth of a powerful city. Two thirds of the way from 
the Piedmontese highlands to the sea, where the plain of 

^ Ruskin, Prasterita, vol. ii. 



VERONA LA DEGNA 323 

Italy is broadest, the wide stream of tlie Adige bursts 
forth from its majestic valley, which like a plough- 
share the river has furrowed straight through the 
beetling Alps from far-off Bozen, Innsbruck, and the 
lands of the Teutons. Wonderfully direct is that moun- 
tain-road, almost as if drawn to a line, and of remark- 
ably gentle grade also, rising but little above the level 
of the plain through the heart of the towering peaks. 
Here then, as Ruskin says, is "the great gate out 
of Germany into Italy, through which not only Gothic 
armies came, but after the Italian nation is formed, the 
current of northern life enters still into its heart 
through the mountain artery, as constantly and 
strongly as the cold waves of the Adige itself." This 
is the pass to which Bassano was a side door, through 
the Valsugana as far as Trent; and it was vastly more 
important than that other pass via the Piave and Ca- 
dore, — which was handy for Venice alone. 

Southward of the huge lake of Garda the Rhaetian 
Alps have thrown an outwork of foothills upon the 
plain, and a little further to the east, that formidable 
projecting bastion which terminates in the Monti Be- 
rici; between these promontories is the wedge-shaped 
bay into which the Adige debouches. Dashing from its 
valley the' stream rushes along the bay's eastern side, 
laves the western bases of the last few rounded hills, 
and empties its waters upon the plain. Here, upon 
those final small elevations, grew the ancient city 
of Verona, extending down their slopes to the watery 
highway, crossing it to the farther side, and spreading 
westward along the level peninsula between the last 
two bends of the river. For the Adige comes down in 
windings like a letter S, whose head is toward the 
northwest, whose centre line extends northeasterly; 
the hills rise from the east side of its lower half; and 



PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the growing city crept southwesterly over the lower 
inclosure till it stretched far and wide beyond. 

The wall of the Roman town cut across this penin- 
sula at about half its length; the wall of the Visconti 
exactly embraced it; and the final great fortifications 
of the Venetians, celebrated as the most powerful of 
Renaissance times, and in fact quite impregnable, 
swept in a huge semicircle from the centre of the 
letter's top line to the end of the bottom, encompass- 
ing a large section to the west. The eastern fortifica- 
tions retained their original location, in an irregular 
line along the summits of the hills a third to a half- 
mile from the river's lower bend, adorned with strong 
fortresses at the highest points, and enfolding at their 
southern end a wide corner of the plain. This ancient 
quarter of the city, called by the people Veronetta, — 
or little Verona, — is very narrow in its northern part, 
being closely confined between the Adige and the steep 
height of S. Pietro, which was the town's birthplace 
and has ever been its citadel; but toward the south the 
eminences gradually recede as the stream curves away 
southwest, allowing the quarter to widen out in the 
shape of a triangle. 

Since the days of the Goths and Lombards, when 
Theodoric and Alboin successively inhabited the com- 
manding castle of S. Pietro, the public buildings and 
centres of life have been entirely on the western bank, 
and Veronetta has steadily dwindled in importance; 
until to-day it remains but a mostly forgotten corner 
of the majestic city, visited only for the splendid 
old churches that dot its silent streets. The one ex- 
ception to this decadence is the long, busy thorough- 
fare of the Venti Settembre, leading straight through 
its southern portion, from the Ponte delle Navi to the 
principal city gate at the southeastern angle, called 



VERONA LA DEGNA S^5 

Porta Vescovo, — shortly without which lies the 
main railway station; but the traffic with which the 
railroad causes this avenue to be crowded, never stops 
at its shops nor diverges into its side ways, — it flows 
unrestingly across the river to the modern centres 
of trade, religion, and amusement. 

It was the trade that flowed from earliest days up 
and down the long Adige Valley, — taking Italian 
products to the German countries, and bringing their 
products back, — that erected Verona, sitting astride 
and guarding the route, into a city of such size and 
power. Just so since the beginnings of time have 
trade-routes made and unmade the great cities of the 
world. We know not how early men dwelt on this 
spot, but they certainly did so in the fourth century 
B.C., for many remains of that period have been dug 
up around the city. By the commencement of the 
third century B.C. Verona was already ruled by Rome, 
— in consequence, it is believed of voluntary submis- 
sion; in B.C. 89 she obtained the privileges of a Latin 
colony, and about 42 became a Roman Municipium. 
Her importance continually increased; for she stood 
at the confluence of several great Roman highways, 
leading from all directions, and uniting for the north. 

In the Imperial days her troubles began, for faction 
fiirst, and foe afterwards, aimed always to seize this 
key to the Alps. At Verona met the legions of Ves- 
pasian in 69 A.D., weary from their long march from 
Syria, with the troops of the Emperor Vitellius; and 
from the series of resulting battles the former assumed 
the sceptre of the world. Decius and his legions, later 
on, slew the Emperor Philip without Verona's walls. 
The Emperor Gallienus extended and strengthened 
those walls, including within them for the first time 
the huge amphitheatre; and Claudius II in 268 saved 



326 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the city from an irruption of the northern barbarians, 
who were pouring down the valley. 

More momentous than these events, however, was 
the battle at Verona in 312 between the hosts of Con- 
stantine and Maxentius, when the former marched 
from his kingdom of Gaul to hurl the latter from his 
Roman throne. Constantine was victorious, — and 
again, later, at Rome; he united under his own sway the 
countries of the West and East, and made Christianity 
at last the religion of the State; — which position, ex- 
cept for short relapses, such as that of Julian, was 
thenceforth maintained. 

With the coming of Alaric in 402, Verona entered 
upon the critical portion of her history, since she be- 
came one of the chief objects of the barbarian in- 
vaders, and a capital of their kingdoms. As Ruskin 
has well said, "There are no tragedies like the tra- 
gedies of Verona under the Gothic and Lombard 
Kings. "^ Alaric was retreating from Italy after the 
disastrous battle of PoUentia, when the fairness of 
Verona tempted him to turn aside and seize her; but 
the great Stilicho was on hand with his pursuing le- 
gions, and under the very walls of the city inflicted a 
terrific beating upon the Goths which permitted but 
a portion of their host to ascend the valley. Under 
Attila, fifty years later, Verona was not so fortunate : 
the magnificent Roman city, with her countless marble 
palaces, baths, temples, theatres, which we can only 
imagine now from the size of the relics, was left sacked 
and burning by the Huns when they marched away. 
Much, however, was not destroyed, and the ruins were 
soon rebuilt in a baser style. 

Then came Odoacer, King of the Visigoths remain- 
ing in Italy, who displaced the last Emperor of the 

^ Ruskin, Verona, and other Lectures. 




VERONA, OLD CASTLE BRIDGE. 




VERONA. CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA IN ORGANO (ST. MARY'S 
OF THE ORGAN.) 



VERONA LA DEGNA 327 

West, Romulus Augustulus, and ruled Italy under the 
title of Patrician granted by Constantinople. He not 
only occupied Verona, but was the first ruler to make 
it his seat of power. Who could help being enthralled 
by those gracious, gardened hills, palace- and castle- 
crowned, with the bright ribbon of the Adige winding 
at their feet. The beautiful city, glowing with her 
white and roseate marbles, with Ravenna now took 
Rome's place as capital of Italy; and held it through 
generations of changing dynasties. Odoacer was ele- 
vated in 476; and only thirteen years later that other 
branch of his race, the Ostrogoths, descended from 
the Julian Alps with the great Theodoric at their head. 
I have already mentioned how they defeated Odoacer 
on gaining the Friulan plain, and scattered the Visi- 
goths before them.^ The latter were reorganized at 
Verona, and when Theodoric had slowly approached, 
made before its walls their final stand. 

So did the city once more witness a battle deciding 
the fate of empire. Theodoric was triumphant, and 
Odoacer with his remaining soldiers fled to Ravenna, 
where he was killed some years later by the conquer- 
or's own hand. The latter took his defeated adver- 
sary's place in the palaces of Verona, lifting the town 
into a prosperity and world-importance that have 
'made his name predominant in her history. Who* 
thinks of Verona, thinks of the great warrior and law- 
giver throned upon her castled heights, rebuilding her 
stately streets, reconstructing the political fabric and 
the justice of ancient Rome. 

Theodoric loved Verona, and admired beyond all 
others her beautiful location. He rebuilt the old for- 
tress-citadel upon the hill of S. Pietro into a magni- 
ficent structure that was both a palace and a castle; 

^ See beginning of last chapter. 



328 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

and there he reigned, looking down over the wide city 
at his feet. With the stones of the Roman ruins, and 
particularly those from the Arena, he constructed 
many other palaces and fortresses, baths and public 
buildings, — restored the aqueduct, and strengthened 
the outer walls. After the death of Odoacer, he dwelt 
much at Ravenna also, but Verona was the residence 
that he most enjoyed. There in his Gothic palace he 
often received in state the envoys of the northern 
nations, who took back to their tribes those stories of 
his power that gave rise to the German legends of 
the mighty "Dietrich von Bern." 

Theodoric is said to have disliked and somewhat 
repressed the Catholic religion, — which therefore 
added to those legends the tale of his demoniacal 
chase; this (among many other places) was represented 
in the reliefs carved on the fagade of the Veronese 
Church of S. Zeno, five centuries later. Christian- 
ity had settled very early in Verona, so much so that 
her first bishop, S. Euprepio, is said to have been 
appointed by St. Peter himself; her whole first score 
of bishops were saints, and the eighth of them, St. 
Zeno, became through his unusual learning and devo- 
tion the city's most prominent spiritual intercessor. 
Three different churches were named after him; and 
the one just spoken of is the largest in the town, as* 
well as the most interesting. During the reign of Dio- 
cletian, about 300, the renowned martyrdom occurred 
here of Saints Fermo and Rustico: the former was a 
noble who refused to recant his faith though offered 
pardon, the latter a poor, devoted friend who shared 
his belief; they were executed in the Arena with hor- 
rible tortures, before the whole delighted populace. 
The story has it that the fire on which they were 
placed was extinguished by a heaven-sent fall of rain. 



VERONA LA DEGNA 329 

so that they had to be decapitated; and ever since 
then, through all the ages, their names have been 
prayed to in times of drought, — often with curious 
success. 

During the Byzantine repossession of Italy under 
Justinian, his forces for a while seized and occupied 
Verona. The Ostrogoths expelled them, — by an- 
other great battle before the city, — but the Goths 
had become so weakened that their last king, Teias, 
was soon defeated and slain by Narses, in the year 560, 
and their power came to an end. Narses retired to hold 
sway at Rome as the viceroy of the Emperor; but 
eight years later, as he was dying, the mighty Lom- 
bards crossed the Alps under the leadership of their 
king, Alboin, and seized upon the plain which after- 
wards assumed their name, with no Italian army to 
oppose them. Pa via became their capital and metro- 
polis; but Alboin lingered also in the palaces of Verona, 
and came there to that tragic end which has immor- 
talized the name of Rosamund. 

To sum up the oft-told tale, she was the daughter of 
Cunamund, King of the Gepidse, the third of the 
Gothic nations, who had kept to their homes in the 
Balkan Plain; Alboin had conquered them before he 
started for Italy, slain Cunamund, and made his skull 
into a cup that always "adorned" his table. The fair 
Rosamund, as beautiful as she was guileful and licen- 
tious, became Alboin's queen. One evening at Verona, 
when he was exceptionally drunk at the daily banquet, 
he filled the skull-cup with ruddy wine and forced his 
wife to quaff from the ghastly relic of her father. Ah, 
shades of Sophocles and Euripides, — not even you 
could have imagined a more creepy drama. 

The queen, teeming with vengeance, stepped down 
from her dignity to the joint love of Helmichis the 



330 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

armor-bearer and Peredeus the warrior; together they 
slew Alboin, — when his wife had sent away all serv- 
ants, lulled him to sleep, and "urged the reluctant 
conspirators to the instant execution of the deed."^ 
Her dream of reigning in his stead was quickly dis- 
pelled by the wrathful chiefs. She fled with her two 
lovers and young daughter to the Byzantine exarch 
who ruled at Ravenna, captivated him also, and at his 
jealous suggestion poisoned Helmichis, while Peredeus 
had his eyes put out. Her own due fate was not want- 
ing; for when Helmichis had drunk half the enven- 
omed cup and felt its instant effect, with a dagger to 
Rosamund's bosom he made her take the rest of it; 
shrieking and writhing, she quickly followed him into 
the final arms of death. 

Lombard dukes and kings succeeded Alboin inter- 
mittently at Verona. The third sovereign, Antharis, 
made the romantic wooing of Theodolinda, daughter 
of the Bavarian King Garibaldo, which has been so 
often since reproduced in varied form ; under the guise 
of his own emissary to the Bavarian Court he loved 
and won her. She it was who turned the Lombards 
from their Arian religion to the Roman Catholic. 
About two centuries later, already decadent, they 
yielded Verona to the attacks of Pepin, King of 
France; and Desiderius, their last king, in 774 was 
forced to surrender his capital and his whole country 
to Pepin's invincible son, Charlemagne. The Lombard 
had given Charlemagne his daughter, Desideria, in 
marriage, to avert the storm, but the Frenchman soon 
repudiated her and sent her home; in the resulting 
warfare her brother Adelchi fortified and held Verona, 
but it was taken in siege by a large French army, and 
soon constituted the capital of a French county. 

^ Gibbon, vol. iv, chap. XLV. 



VERONA LA DEGNA 331 

Nothing better shows the fascination of ancient 
Verona than the effect she produced upon the tri- 
umphant Carlovingians. Pepin spent there all the time 
that he could spare; Charlemagne himself relaxed and 
rested on the lovely banks of the Adige. The populace 
cherished for centuries memories of Pepin's power and 
benevolence, and till recently pointed out a stone seat 
in the ruins of the older castle of S. Pietro, from which 
they said he had administered his unbiased justice. 
A reminder of the residence of Charlemagne exists in 
the quaint statues of Roland and Oliver adorning the 
sides of the main portal of the Cathedral. The Prank- 
ish Counts following the latter ruled at Verona for 
some eighty years, until in 886 the last of them was 
overthrown by that strange, ambitious character, 
Duke Berengarius of Friuli, who, though foiled in his 
aims to sway all Italy, made himself a kingdom out of 
the Lombard Plain, and reigned over it at Verona 
until 923. His death was another tragedy : he was mur- 
dered by a favorite noble, Flambert, whom he had 
already forgiven one plot of assassination and heaped 
high with favors, and who struck the fatal blow as the 
King embraced him. 

Berengarius's kingdom crumbled with his death, 
but Verona and her territory were successively the 
prey of Rudolph, Duke of Burgundy, and Hugh, Duke 
of Provence; three of his own line followed the latter, 
and then the Germans at last stepped into their fated 
hegemony of North Italy, with the invasion, in 962, 
of the Emperor Otho I. Verona was the first city met 
and taken by him ; and she not only settled into a long 
German subjection, under the immediate rule of ap- 
pointed marquises, but developed a strong Imperial 
feeling, becoming the leading and most faithful Ghi- 
belline city in the peninsula. This condition lasted 



332 PLAIN-TOWKS OF ITALY 

until the middle of the twelfth century, when the 
cruelties and rapine of the Emperor Frederick I, or 
Barbarossa, caused Verona to join with the other 
plain-towns, in 1164, to form a convention for their 
joint defense. This was the so-called Lombard League, 
which fought the Emperor so long and bitterly that 
he had eventually to retreat from Italy; it was re- 
newed against his grandson Frederick II, in 1226, and 
resulted again in such triumphant success that no 
German emperor followed him into the peninsula for 
a space of sixty years. 

These successes not only insured the power of the 
communes over the country, they also overcame the 
conquerors, by bringing forth the race of local despots. 
While the two struggles continued, each town was 
rent by the fighting factions of Guelph and Ghibel- 
line, — for there was always a party who sympathized 
with the emperors. In Verona the Guelphs were 
favored by the Cappelletti family of nobles, and the 
Ghibellines were led by the Montecchi, — the same ad- 
versaries that Shakespeare has presented to us under 
the names of Capulets and Montagues, Juliet belong- 
ing to the one and Romeo to the other. 

The leaders of the Guelphs were the great family of 
San Bonaf acio, who succeeded at one time in expelling 
the Montecchi and their allies, and then called in the 
Marchese d' Este, Azzo VI, to rule the city as podestd. 
The Estensi had not yet seized upon Ferrara, and 
swayed their primitive territory in the Euganean Hills. 
Azzo held forth in Verona for a while, till the Montec- 
chi and other exiles, with the aid of his own uncle, re- 
gained the city by a surprise. Azzo escaped, procured 
reinforcements, retook the city, fought the Ghibel- 
lines from street to street and house to house, for 
several weeks, and finally exterminated what was left 



VERONA LA DEGNA 333 

of them in their last remaining stronghold. This was 
one of the most ferocious and desperate civic struggles 
of the Middle Ages. 

Soon afterwards came the League's war with Fred- 
erick II, which extended desultorily over twenty -five 
years. Seven years after its commencement, in 1233, 
Era Giovanni the peacemaker held that astounding 
meeting of all the plain-towns, to make a union of 
peace, which gathered on the plain of Pasquara, three 
miles from Verona's walls. ^ The pact which the vast 
multitude swore to did not long endure. The friar 
became ruler of Verona, but after his already men- 
tioned feat of burning sixty citizens in a body, was 
cast down and imprisoned. The city's third despot 
quickly succeeded, — the worst and strongest of them 
all. 

Ezzelino da Romano was unwisely named by the 
Veronese to be their captain, at the desire of Freder- 
ick II, when the latter occupied the city in 1236; and 
he made himself absolute master for over a score of 
years. In 1238 his marriage to the Emperor's natural 
daughter Selvaggia was celebrated with much pomp 
at the local Church of St. Zeno. Ezzelino's cruelties 
were much the same at Verona as elsewhere; and when 
he died in 1259, it was only to leave the city to a 
follower who founded a whole dynasty of masterful 
tyrants. This was Mastino della Scala, the first of his 
line, who was chosen podestd by the voice of the people 
as soon as Ezzelino was dead. 

The Della Scala were a local family of merchants, 
of no known ancestry, who had come into prominence 
under Ezzelino by having three of their male members 
suffer death, and Mastino mount to favor and power 
in order to save his own skin. They were not extremely 

^ See chapter on Vicenza. 



334 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

wealthy, like the Medici, but climbed far more quickly 
to absolute sway through their abilities as warriors 
and rulers. The first five of them, with the exception 
of Alboino, were remarkable conquerors and states- 
men, adored by the people; they made Verona once 
more the capital of a great state, the first power and 
city of northern Italy, and bestowed upon her a pro- 
sperity, a beauty, and a height of culture which she 
had not seen since the days of Theodoric. Their re- 
maining six rulers were ever more decadent tyrants, 
who lost all that their predecessors had gained, reduced 
the people to misery, and exterminated themselves by 
a process of fratricide such as the horrified world had 
never beheld before. Their descent was as rapid and 
catastrophic as their ascent had been proud and glori- 
ous, and their whole course was run in the short period 
of one hundred and twenty-eight years. 

Mastino the founder was but podestd and capitano, 
— an honest, kindly, forceful man, who did not at- 
tempt any show of absolute power. He quieted the 
troubled city, exiled the agitators, and began the Scala 
kingdom by the conquest of Mantua, Pa via, Piacenza, 
and the upper valley of the Adige. In 1277 he was 
unsuspectingly murdered by unknown parties while 
walking one evening near his palace through a covered 
passage called the "Vol to Barbaro." Leaving no son, 
he was succeeded in authority by his brother Alberto, 
who reigned as absolute despot until 1301. Alberto 
not only strengthened his hold upon the conquests of 
Mastino, but extended his sway to Reggio, Parma, 
Vicenza, Riva, Castel d' Arco, Este, Feltre, and Bel- 
luno. He ruled wisely, consulted the welfare and hap- 
piness of his peoples, and began that series of princely 
buildings which constitute the beauty of the Verona 
of to-day. 



VERONA LA DEGNA 335 

Alberto left three sons, who ruled in turn: Barto- 
lommeo, first, for a few years until his death; Alboino, 
also for but a few years, until 1311; and Can Grande, 
the greatest Scala of them all. The latter two in fact 
reigned together until Alboino's ideath. Can Grande 
being always the captain and real master. He was a 
prince whose preeminence in his period it is impossible 
to overestimate. After Alboino's decease he made 
himself sole ruler of the greater part of North Italy, — 
the head of a state whose size and power dwarfed to 
insignificance the territories of all his neighbors. At 
war he was a consummate genius, the foremost of 
his time, extending the Scala possessions by rapid 
campaigns to Padua, Treviso, Monselice, Brescia, 
Modena, Lucca, Bassano, and Cividale, until his king- 
dom stretched from the far eastern end of the Friulan 
Plain and the Alpen fastnesses of Cadore, to Milan 
and Bergamo upon the west, and the stream of the 
Arno beyond the Apennines. 

This was the largest state that medieval North 
Italy ever saw, — with the exception of the brief con- 
quests of Gian Galeazzo Visconti fourscore years 
later; it included a dozen of the fairest and richest 
cities of the peninsula, and yielded to its sovereign 
the vast private income of seven hundred thousand 
florins in gold, which was surpassed by no European 
potentate save the King of France. Can Grande be- 
came the dazzling cynosure of all Western eyes, the 
leader of Italy; and his capital, Verona, the centre to 
which flowed this unceasing stream of gold, of power, 
and adulation, became the glittering hub of attraction 
to the world of literature, art, magnificence, and 
courtly life. 

For Can Grande was more than a conqueror; he 
was a dilettante, a lover of all the graces and accom- 



336 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

plishments, drawing around him the greatest minds 
and artists of his age. In the Renaissance and the 
revolution of manners, that were now in full swing, he 
played a leading part. The Scala love of building was 
inherited by him, and he urged on with reckless ex- 
penditure a host of architects, masons, and sculptors, 
gathered from every side. Giotto came to Verona, at 
his solicitation, and started her school of painting with 
a series of works now vanished. He drew to his Court, 
encouraged, and patronized those foremost in learning 
and literature, of every branch and land; and enter- 
tained handsomely the chief exiles of all other states. 
His violence and small vices were overbalanced by 
many splendid traits, — generosity, integrity, kindli- 
ness, consideration, courtesy, justice, all in a large de- 
gree, — with a loftiness and grandeur of soul far above 
his day. 

His tremendous thirst for glory was remarkably 
commingled with, and tempered by, a love of his city 
and country, and desires for the welfare of the people. 
High as he, had climbed, his ambitious spirit yearned 
higher still. He had become the dominant leader of 
all the Ghibellines, and they, adoring his magnanim- 
ity, looked to him as the long-awaited savior of Italy; 
in their hopes, as in his own, he was to reconquer the 
whole peninsula for the Imperial cause, and rule the 
united kingdom as the Emperor's vicar. This position 
for North Italy had already been conferred upon him 
by Henry VII. 

These ambitions and hopes are set forth in the 
writings of Dante, — the most illustrious of all 
the exiles and literati whom Can Grande entertained 
at Verona. Dante lingered long with him, and with 
his brothers before him, at their palaces in the city 
and castles roundabout, forming one of that renowned 



VERONA LA DEGNA 337 

courtly circle, highly honored by his royal hosts, and 
himself highly esteeming the conqueror, — to whom 
he dedicated his Paradiso. What he looked to Can 
Grande to accomplish is shown in the oft-quoted pas- 
sage of the Inferno, canto i, where the latter is clearly 
indicated by the "greyhound" (veltro) who was to 
come and destroy the papal wolf, and reunite Italy 
under the Imperial sway. Dante afterwards fell out 
with Can Grande, and left his Court for good. Nor did 
the latter live to fulfill any of the greater hopes enter- 
tained; for, like his brothers and all succeeding Sca- 
ligers, who seemed to have but weak constitutions, he 
died before he was forty, suddenly, at Treviso, in 
1329. And his empire fell to pieces as quickly as it had 
been made. 

It was in the reign of Alboino, just preceding Can 
Grande, that Shakespeare placed his tragedy of Romeo 
and Juliet; although, as a matter of fact, the Montecchi 
and Capelletti had ended their high positions and 
enmity long before. The whole story of the lovers is 
doubtless equally unreal, having its source in one of 
the tales of the cinquecento romancer, Luigi di Porto; 
though there are not wanting people who claim that 
such persons really existed, and were buried together 
in the sarcophagus which was long pointed out in the 
old Capuchin cemetery. 

Can Grande left no sons, and the inheritance of his 
great state fell into the incapable hands of Mastino 
II, the elder son of Alboino. This prince had the con- 
queror's ambition without his ability or depth of 
soul. Instead of consolidating the loosely hung terri- 
tories, like a man of sense, he quickly alarmed the 
neighboring powers, already envious, by his prepara- 
tions for further conquests. Venice, Florence, Milan, 
Ferrara, and Mantua promptly leagued themselves 



338 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

together to avert this danger, attacked the tyrant 
unitedly, and despoiled him of everything except 
Verona and Vicenza. It was he who commenced the 
unparalleled system of fratricide of his house, by 
killing Bishop Bartolommeo della Scala with his 
own hand. In him began the degeneration of the stock; 
which was grafted into the Visconti by the marriage 
of his daughter Caterina to Barnabo of that family, 
— a fact of interest, because from her Milan's 
world-renowned opera-house received its name, "La 
Scala." 

Upon Mastino's death in 1351, the throne of Ve- 
rona again fell to three brothers, his legitimate sons, 
who were as weak and criminal as the former trio had 
been strong and noble. Can Grande II, the eldest, 
ruled till 1359; Cansignorio, the second, followed him 
for sixteen years; and Paolo Alboino, the youngest, 
shared the power for a while in name only. There were 
also a number of illegitimate brothers, including Freg- 
nano, who had some character and ability. He was 
loved by the people, and headed them in a revolt 
against the tyranny of Can Grande II, when the 
latter had driven them to desperation with his im- 
positions. It was perhaps unfortunate that Fregnano 
did not succeed; but Can Grande slew him on the 
Ponte delle Navi, and dispersed the mob. 

The result was the despot's erection of that fortress 
on the bank of the Adige now called the Castel Vecchio, 
or Castle of the Scaligers, with its strange, picturesque, 
Gothic bridge crowned by forked battlements; and 
there he shut himself up from the danger of rebellion, 
holding the bridge to receive aid from his brother-in- 
law, the Marquis of Brandenburg, up the valley, in 
case of another rising. Death soon caught him, 
however, by an insidious, treacherous hand more base 



VERONA LA DEGNA 339 

than himself, more dangerous than the people, — a 
hand which should have been extended to defend him, 
which penetrated all bars, and proved itself the vilest 
of all murderers. It was Cansignorio. 

This inhuman monster killed his brother with his 
own dagger, and, mounting the throne, deprived the 
latter's three sons of their inheritance. With that 
inconsistency so characteristic of medieval Italians, 
however, once firmly seated, he devoted himself to 
the embellishment of the city and the welfare of the 
people. Such a queer compound is little to be under- 
stood to-day, — but he certainly did much for Verona; 
among other things, the public gardens near the 
Scaliger palaces were opened, the Ponte delle Navi 
was rebuilt in a grander form, painting was encour- 
aged by abundant frescoing in his own and other 
noble houses, and marble monuments and statues were 
scattered richly through the town. His chief good 
work was the aqueduct bringing potable water to the 
city, which still spouts forth from the handsome foun- 
tain that he placed in the central piazza. He built 
himself a Gothic tomb far surpassing those of his pre- 
decessors, so large and sumptuous that it is evident 
he intended it to secure him a posthumous fame. 

Throughout his day Cansignorio was very pious and 
devout; — what a commentary upon the failure of a 
faith which teaches that salvation is earned by pro- 
fessions alone. He had no sons except two of illegit- 
imate birth, Bartolommeo II and Antonio; and to 
insure their inheritance of the throne, he crowned his 
devotions and good deeds by another deliberate fratri- 
cide, — the murder of poor Paolo Alboino, long con- 
fined in prison walls. Then he died contented, in 1375, 
and his sons took his seat together. 

Bartolommeo, the elder, was by far the better of 



340 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the two, and for six years administered the two cities 
with considerable justice. But the course of degenera- 
tion was not yet run out. Bartolommeo had fallen in 
love with a fair daughter of the Nogarola family, who 
had another suitor in a son of the Malaspina; Antonio 
slew his brother, sleeping on his bed, with the aid of 
hired bravos, and deposited the corpse at night-time 
in the street before the Nogarola mansion. Next day, 
with its discovery, Antonio accused Malaspina of the 
bloody deed, and arrested him, together with the 
Nogarola girl and her father, declaring the latter to 
have been its instigators. All thrfee were put to hor- 
rible tortures in the hopes of forcing a feigned con- 
fession; they disappointed the fratricide by asserting 
their innocence until death ended their sufferings. 
That turned the accusations of the people upon the 
true murderer. He endeavored to dissipate them by 
a wonderful fete. 

Antonio's betrothed bride, the celebrated Samari- 
tana, beautiful but heartless daughter of the despot 
of Ravenna, arrived shortly after this with a jeweled 
cavalcade, and the lord of Verona seized the opportun- 
ity to make a festivity such as even those pageant- 
loving ages seldom saw. There were processions of 
thousands of silk-clad, begemmed nobles, with at- 
tendants, pages, musicians, heralds, in every sort of 
extravagant costume, and banners, flags, canopies, 
with showers of gold, silver and sweetmeats, through 
which Samaritana rode a white horse like a glistening 
fairy. The ancient Arena witnessed the strangest 
scenes of its bloody history; the same glittering court- 
iers and maidens acted for the gathered populace 
jousts and plays, including the siege of a "castle 
of love" erected in the centre, which was defended 
by girls raining sweets and flowers, and captured by 



VERONA LA DEGNA 341 

swains. These entertainments lasted for twenty-seven 
consecutive days; and their expense was so vast, to- 
gether with the folHes which Samaritana began soon 
to commit, that Antonio found his exchequer denuded 
when Milan and Padua stood suddenly hostile before 
him. 

Stripped and friendless by his own deeds, he could 
put up no effectual defense against the Carrarese 
troops led by the great English condottiere, Sir John 
Hawkwood; and on the night of November 18, 1387, 
the last of the Scaligers stole secretly and alone from 
the palaces and the city where his ancestors had so 
brilliantly reigned. The Visconti immediately oc- 
cupied Verona, while the Carrara seized Vicenza. The 
Visconti chief at this time was the renowned Gian 
Galeazzo, who was engaged in building up his wide- 
spread state. He extended Verona's outer wall across 
the peninsula, rebuilt the fortresses upon the hilltops, 
and continued the construction of palatial edifices. 
Verona was to be the second brightest gem in the Vis- 
conti crown; but his death in 1402 dissipated all those 
dreams. Francesco Carrara at once took the city, un- 
resisting, and installed in the princely chair Guglielmo, 
the bastard son of Can Grande II. The latter died so 
instantly, within twenty -four hours, that it cannot be 
called a restoration ; and the cause is often laid at the 
door of him who profited by it, — Carrara. He was 
proclaimed lord of Verona; — and Caterina, Duchess 
Dowager of Milan, called the Venetians to the aid of 
her infant sons. 

We know what followed: the Republic extinguished 
the house of Carrara and seized its territories, while 
Verona suffered willingly the subjection of St. Mark. 
Henceforth there was peace in the city, though some- 
times trouble roundabout, during the wars of Venice, 



342 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

when condottieri generals had to be paid, to keep 
them outside the walls. During the war of the League 
of Cambrai, Verona, released like the rest of the Vene- 
tian towns from their allegiance, inclined once more 
to the Imperial cause which she had so long repre- 
sented in the peninsula; she shut her gates against 
the distressed Venetian army retreating from its de- 
feat at Ghiaradadda, solemnly re-tendered her sub- 
jection to the Emperor, Maximilian I, and received 
him in her midst in 1509, with much 6clat. At the end 
of the war, in 1517, she was restored to Venice; and 
in the meantime had suffered so extremely from Ger- 
man rapacity, extortion, and bloodthirstiness, that her 
people were forever cured of their Ghibelline prefer- 
ences. Such rejoicings were never again seen as when 
they returned to the benevolent rule of St. Mark. 
The saint's marble Lions were brought out from their 
hiding-places, and reerected with songs of joy. 

Then it was that the Republic constructed those 
formidable fortifications around the city which be- 
came the wonder of their time; nothing like them is 
even yet to be seen in Europe. Verona, now of only 
eighty thousand inhabitants, was then doubtless the 
habitat of at least one hundred and fifty thousand, 
as evidenced by her wide extent. Venice was determ- 
ined never to lose the marble city again, and she did 
not, until she fell herself. The renowned Veronese 
architect, Michele Sammicheli, foremost of his age in 
that profession, built those miles of gigantic stone walls, 
with their tremendous bastions, sallyports, scarps and 
counterscarps, with mountainous embankments, and 
a moat like a deep broad river; and in them he con- 
structed five new and ornamental gates, whose beauti- 
ful Renaissance archways still span the tides of travel. 

No trouble now for nearly three centuries marred 



VERONA LA DEGNA S43 

the city's steady prosperity, beyond another visitation 
in 1630 of that most terrible of all enemies, the plague, 
which had already fiercely attacked her on half a dozen 
or more occasions. This time it reduced her popula- 
tion to the pitiful figure of only twenty thousand; 
but in a few years, with Italy's unending prolificness, 
the streets were again re-peopled. Toward the end 
of the Republic, Verona for a time afforded an asylum 
to the French Pretender, afterwards Louis XVIII, who 
was duly sent away in consequence of representations 
from the Directory; but when Bonaparte arrived upon 
the plain with his army, he used the fact of that asylum 
as a pretext for occupying the city. On the night of 
April 17, 1797, occurred that bloody, desperate up- 
rising against the French which is known as the 
"Veronese Vespers"; it was a frightful massacre, 
which continued for three whole days, with resistance 
to the troops advancing to the garrison's aid; but the 
result was only a firmer hold and worse exactions by 
Napoleon. 

From the Peace of Luneville, in 1800, the city was 
curiously divided between the French and Austrians, 
until 1805, — the right bank of the Adige being French 
territory and the left Austrian; then it was entirely 
French till 1814, and after the latter date, entirely 
Austrian until 1866. During the last-named period, 
Verona became the chief stronghold of the foreign 
yoke, the foremost member of the celebrated Quadri- 
lateral. In the final war of 1866, the second disas- 
trous battle of Custozza was fought close without the 
city, the people listening to the thunder of the cannon 
with anxious hearts; and with its close came a long, 
harrowing line of Italian prisoners and wounded, who 
were confined in the great Arena as a prison. But the 
long awaited freedom soon arrived; the Austrians 



344 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

retreated, and in November of that same year Victor 
Emmanuel made his triumphal entry into the city 
amidst the tears of the welcoming populace. 

Verona's history in art and letters has been as dis- 
tinctive and proud as her political position. Among 
her early, native-born, great writers were Catullus, 
iEmilius Macer, Pomponius Secundus, and the elder 
Pliny; her private palaces have always been celebrated 
for their libraries, and her University has been pro- 
minent ever since its foundation by the sons of Charle- 
magne. In recent times she has produced Aleardi the 
patriotic poet, Pompei, Pindemonte, and Scipione 
Maffei the historian. 

But especially original and glorious was Verona's 
school of painting, which developed on its own separ- 
ate lines of distinguished beauty, until in the cinque- 
cento it gradually merged itself with the school of 
Venice. So uniquely lovely and striking are its accom- 
plishments, — for the most part to be seen only at 
Verona herself, — that he who has not beheld them 
can form no proper idea of the full powers of Italian 
art. Can Grande originated Veronese painting by 
bringing Giotto to the city; and Giotto left behind 
there a pupil who became the true founder of its school. 
This was Altichieri, whose chief remaining works, 
however, are at Padua. He and D' Avanzo struck off 
a little from Giotto's line, and left the diverging path 
for their successors. Martini of Verona worked in their 
time, and Pisanello (1380-1451), the great medalist, 
followed them; the latter labored mostly at his won- 
derful medallions, but executed in his city some fres- 
coes also, of the very first rank for their periqd . Others 
were painted by him in the Doges' Palace. He was the 
first artist to be renowned for his careful reproduc- 
tions of animal life. 



VERONA LA DEGNA 345 

Pisanello left behind him, amongst other pupils, 
three that became prominent quattrocento artists, — 
Stefano da Zevio, and Francesco and Girolamo 
Benaglio. In the next generation, at the end of the 
quattrocento, uprose the greatest Veronese of them all : 
Liberale, Girolamo dai Libri, Francesco Morone, and 
Paolo Morando or Cavazzola. This was the quartette 
that immortalized the school. Working well into the 
cinquecento, at the very height of the Renaissance, 
filled with religious feeling and an extraordinary love 
of grace and coloring, they turned out those scores of 
canvases that blaze from the churches and palaces 
of Verona, with a gorgeous beauty quite astounding 
to the stranger. 

Most of these men had been bred as miniaturists, 
which work was greatly practiced here, and so had 
developed that painstaking minuteness which gives 
to their work a perfection of finish, a careful loveliness 
of every slightest detail, seen nowhere else, and makes 
it more enjoyable than can be expressed. They de- 
voted themselves to pietistic tableaux, in which they 
expressed profound religious happiness, and which 
they set forth with a nicety of drawing and grouping, 
a celestial grace, and a glory of coloring quite Oriental 
in its rich harmonies. The works of Girolamo dai Libri 
were especially unparalleled for their wondrous love- 
liness, — those of Morone for their power and depth 
also; they all developed a depth of pious sentiment 
considerably beyond that of other schools. 

Liberale, the most advanced and far-seeing of his 
associates, left for the second generation of the cinque- 
centists some pupils of genius that formed another 
remarkable quartette, — Caroto, Bonsignori, Torbido, 
and Domenico del Riccio, called Brusasorci. Of these 
Caroto was the greatest, having a most unique and 



346 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

effective gracefulness, and much force; Torbido devel- 
oped a style very much like Giorgione's; Bonsignori 
was a renowned portrait painter; and Brusasorci ad- 
vanced beyond them all into the free field of the later 
Renaissance, discarding all precedents, working with an 
originality and power of genius worthy of the deepest 
study. Liberale's other pupils, Falconetto, and Paolo 
and Niccolo Giolfino, as well as Farinata and Antonio 
Badile, who were influenced by him, were able artists 
of the same period without the fire of genius, but who 
nevertheless produced some occasional striking pieces. 
Badile was the uncle and teacher of the great man who 
ended the long list, — who became a thorough Vene- 
tian, and yet, by reason of being named after his native 
city, has represented it more to the general world than 
all his predecessors: this was Paolo Veronese (sur- 
named Cagliari), — and with him the glorious school of 
Verona passed away. 

On the last leg of my journey from Vicenza to 
Verona, I 'passed through scenery that had close con- 
nections with this history. The route for the first half 
of the way lay southwesterly, along the narrow vale 
between the Monti Berici and the Alpen foothills, 
whose rounded slopes glistened with far-off villages 
and ancient castles peeping from the woods. A more 
beautiful valley could hardly be conceived. About a 
third of the distance through it, perched high upon the 
shoulder of a near eminence on the right, the ruined 
towers of the medieval stronghold of the Montecchi 
were seen, with the clustering white walls of the village 
bearing their name, — Montecchio. This was one of 
the largest and richest castles of North Italy in those 
days when Romeo made love to Juliet; and to it as an 
impregnable fortress the family and their retainers 



VERONA LA DEGNA 347 

would retire, whenever worsted in their struggles in 
Verona. To-day it is but an empty shell, though still 
picturesque and formidable from afar. 

At Montebello, two thirds of the way through, a 
later country-place was passed, — the splendid villa 
of the Conti Arrighi; and when we emerged upon the 
wide plain again, and turning westward, stopped at 
the town of San Bonifacio, only three miles to the 
south of us lay the village where Napoleon in 1796 
gained his momentous victory of Arcole; and only two 
miles to the north, frowning in plain view from its hill- 
top, sat the important Scala castle of Soave, to which 
the Court so often retreated, and where Dante enjoyed 
himself in its illustrious company. Then we passed the 
little town of Caldiero, lying where the valley of the 
lUasi debouches upon the plain; and looking up its 
long straight defile, I fancied I could discern at least 
one of those two other famous castles of the Scaligers 
that guarded it of old, — Illasi and Tregnano. All 
around Verona thus they sat, those strongholds of 
the tyrants, on both sides of the Adige, dominating 
the vales of the mountains, and glowering over the 
plain. 

Soon we rumbled into the huge covered station of 
Verona, and, separating myself as soon as possible 
from the flowing crowd, I took a vettura for the city. 
It was the sunset hour. Up a wide, tree-shaded avenue 
to the imposing stone arch of the Porta Vescovo, and 
along the Via Venti Settembre, we coursed, through 
its endless throng of wagons, carriages, and tram cars, 
between its modern-looking, plastered facades, — 
until at length I found myself once more rolling over 
the grand arches of the historic Ponte delle Navi. 
Once again I beheld the muddy, whirling waters of the 
Adige, the great stone quays, crowned with stately 



348 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

boulevards, and the lovely hillsides, curving round from 
north to southeast, gray with forests of olive groves, 
and topped with bastioned citadels glistening in the 
level sun. But loveliest of all was the rounded height 
of S. Pietro, blocking the end of the river vista, rising 
steeply with gleaming buildings, tier on tier from the 
very quay, graced still above these by a row of tall 
black cypresses like sentinels on guard, and crowned 
upon its summit with an imposing edifice that glowed 
golden in the western blaze. It was the latest castle of 
S. Pietro, constructed by the Austrians upon the 
foundations of Theodoric and the Romans, — a long 
three-storied edifice, with square, towering pavilions 
at the corners. 

I thought of Theodoric also, and all the stirring, 
eventful history of these shores, as I lowered my eyes 
to the rushing waters : — 

Green Adige, 't was thus in rapid course 
And powerful, that thou didst murmur 'neath 
The Roman bridges sparkling from thy stream 
p?hine ever-running song unto the sun. 
When Odoacer, giving way before 
The onrush of Theodoric, fell back; 
And 'midst the bloody rack about them passed 
Into this fair Verona, blonde and straight 
Barbarian women in their chariots, singing 
Songs unto Odin; while the Italian folk 
Gathered about their Bishop and put forth 
To meet the Goths the supplicating Cross.^ 

And this same stream whose waters had made a 
city great, — how had they not scourged and devas- 
tated it through all the centuries! I thought of the 
many times repeated floods, furious and resistless, 
which it had poured from its mountain-gorge through 
the level streets, and far and wide over the plain, 
throwing down, undermining, drowning, carrying 

* M. W. Arms's translation of Carducci. 



VERONA LA DEGNA 349 

away, its multitudinous prey of human beings and 
their works, receding at last only to leave behind its 
final sting of pestilence. In 589, when Duke Antharis 
wedded Theodolinda, the whole city and countryside 
were buried fathoms deep in such an avalanche of 
waters, with such a terrible destruction of lives, build- 
ings, animals, and crops, that its horror remained with 
the people for long ages after. Then it was that oc- 
curred the strange reputed miracle of S. Zeno, — 
when the roaring flood refused to strike those sacred 
walls, banked itself up, and rushed divided on. Again 
and again the Adige repeated its pitiless assaults, — 
one of them, as late as 1757, leaving the city almost a 
depopulated ruin. But to-day modern engineering 
has hemmed the dangerous torrent into those mighty 
stone embankments that I saw before me, and the 
great muraglioni or dikes leading across the plain; 
so that its powers of destruction are forever ended. 

As we came off the bridge, I saw facing it the tall 
Gothic apse of the huge brick Church of S. Fermo, 
one of Verona's finest edifices, perpetuating the mem- 
ory of her sainted martyr. We turned at a right angle 
into the long straight thoroughfare leading north- 
ward to the grand Piazza delle Erbe, at the very centre 
of the town. Roundabout it at close distances lie all 
the chief hotels; and for several hours, well into the 
evening, I searched through them for the best accom- 
modations, at reasonable rates, for a prolonged stay. 
With some I was acquainted from former visits, into 
the others I made close investigation; but it seemed 
that every one of them was either too fancy in its 
prices, too antiquated in its means, too dirty, or too 
poor in table. At last, just when I was about giving 
it up, I found exactly what I was hunting for: a thor- 
oughly Italian caravansary, but newly furnished. 



350 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

immaculately clean, not too large for good service and 
homelikeness, quiet, centrally located, with excellent 
cooking, a genial host, and very reasonable rates. It 
was entitled the "Aquila Nera," and was situated in a 
retired spot on the Via Quattro Spade, a little west of 
the Piazza Erbe, with its rooms overlooking a silent 
courtyard; and there I passed, with my companions 
who joined me, as enjoyable a sojourn as Italy has 
ever given me. 

Verona is too vast, her sights too manifold, to be 
more than enumerated within the limits of a single 
chapter, and enumerated without a word of descrip- 
tion. Those who wish a detailed catalogue or guide 
will find it in the pages of Baedeker or Murray, or bet- 
ter still, within the covers of that pleasant little vol- 
ume, Verona, by Alethea Wiel, of the series of Medieval 
Towns, — in which also the history has been well re- 
lated. I have neither space nor desire to follow use- 
lessly in their footsteps; but shall transcribe my own 
gambles, from day to day, endeavoring through them 
to give an idea of the general plan and appearance of 
the historic city, of her principal avenues, piazzas, 
buildings, and monuments, of her life and people, and 
of the chief masterpieces of painting, showing the 
characteristics and unique powers of her wonderful 
school. 




VER()XA. CHURCH OF ST. ANASTASIA. 



CHAPTER X 

VERONA LA MARMORINA 

Still westward hold thy way, till Alps look down 
On old Verona's walled and classic town. 
Fair is the prospect; palace, tower, and spire. 
And blossomed grove, the eye might well admire. 

— Nicholas Mitchell. 

*'In Verona the gutters are of marble. The ledge you 
lean upon, the flight of steps going up outside a house, 
the posts which block a street against the wheels, the 
fountain in the market-place, are all of white or red 
marble. Pillars of white or red marble hold up the 
overhanging roofs of shops, and the shopkeepers paste 
their advertisements over marble. Every street has 
its marble doorway, window, or balcony, shaped after 
a (fine ^Renaissance pattern or carved with beautiful 
ornament. . . . And there are monsters enough in red 
and white marble, crouching at the doors of churches, 
leaning over from the lintels, and carved in slabs let 
into the walls of houses. . . . And the two colors of 
Veronese marbles, red and white, are repeated in 
bricks, in pavements, in castles, churches, palaces, and 
bridges; till at sunset the whole city seems to flush 
with ruddy light." ^ 

How true I felt this, as I walked once more the en- 
deared and fascinating streets, glowing with their 
wealth of rich material and design, teeming with their 
memories of past glories and tragedies. I was making 
my way, on the morning after my arrival, to the near 
Piazza Erbe, the centre of the city and its life. 

^ Arthur Symons, Cities of Italy. 



352 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

The great Arena, standing farther to the southwest, 
at about the middle of the Viseonti wall inclosing the 
peninsula, is surrounded by another large piazza, an 
immense one, named recently after Vittorio Eman- 
uele, but still generally known by its old appellation 
of Piazza Bra. That is second in importance, — lighted 
at night by the blazing windows of caffes, thronged 
with tables and moving people, resounding with the 
music of the garrison's band; and from its northeastern 
angle runs a narrow street called Via Nuova, directly 
to the southern end of Piazza Erbe. This street is the 
town's principal promenade and shopping-centre, its 
asphalt pavement being denied to vehicles, and given 
up entirely to the endless crowds of pedestrians; 
through it I was now proceeding, threading the lively 
groups, looking into the bright little shops that 
make the slender way strangely like to the Venetian 
Merceria. 

Then I stood at the southern end of Piazza Erbe, 
gazing up its long and wonderfully picturesque vista, 
framed by fine, old, four-storied buildings with their 
traces of nearly vanished frescoes, crowded with its 
hundreds of large, white umbrellas over market- 
stalls, adorned with its ancient monuments fiiat bear 
such memories of the pulsating past; and I felt those 
memories surge up within me like a storm. Few 
piazzas in all Italy can compare with this one. Of it 
the enraptured Dickens said, "It is so fanciful, quaint, 
and picturesque a place, formed by such an extraor- 
dinary and rich variety of fantastic buildings, that 
there could be nothing better at the core of even this 
romantic towri."^ Its shape is peculiar, — the length 
from north to south being perhaps four times the 
breadth, and the western side curving gently in a broad 

^ Pictures from Italy. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 353 

arc. In the middle of that side I saw the delightful, 
Gothic Casa dei Mercanti rising on its heavy arcade, 
dating as far back as 1301, designed by Alberto della 
Scala for the merchants' guilds, but latterly used for 
the commercial courts. It was really more Romanesque 
than Gothic, being of the transition period: its brick 
arches were rounded, with alternate red and white 
voussoirs, supported by heavy marble columns; and 
the upper windows had charming double lights, sepa- 
rated by coupled, slender shafts, — while battlements 
crowned the roof. The rest of the buildings on that 
side were private houses, once occupied by noble fam- 
ilies; and the last few fagades still glowed with linger- 
ing portions of paintings, by Liberali and Girolamo 
dai Libri, well enough preserved to show how very 
lovely they must once have been. 

Opposite, in the centre of the right side, rose the 
simple stuccoed facade of the old Palazzo della Ra- 
gione, or city hall, surmounted to a tremendous height 
by the imposing municipal clock- and bell-tower, 
called the Torre Lamberti, which was constructed in 
1172, — according to the local story, by the family of 
that name. It was of brick, square in shape till near 
the top, where it ended in an octagonal belfry; huge 
clock-faces adorned it more than halfway up; then 
came a beautiful, triple, Gothic window on each side, 
with marble shafts and red-and- white brick arches; 
and each side of the belfry bore a similar, double win- 
dow, long and narrow, leaving the great bells swinging 
visibly in the open air. 

At the end of the same side I saw the Casa dei 
Mazzanti, where Alberto della Scala was living when 
he founded the Mercanti, its lofty wall-spaces covered 
with enormous painted figures of gods and goddesses, 
nude forms of reddish brown, — Venus and Cupids, 



354 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

and Titans struggling, — and at the very angle a 
hideous Assumption of the Virgin. The end of the 
vista was blocked by a striking Renaissance f agade of 
marble, the Palazzo Maffei, looking down over the 
piazza with its row of marble statues crowning the 
cornice; and immediately on its left soared the bell- 
tower built by Cansignorio when he adorned the piazza. 
I lowered my eyes to the pavement of the square, — 
practically hidden by the crowd of canvas toadstools, 
and the congested throngs of people that pushed and 
trafficked among the booths, — and noticed again 
with pleasure the fine old monuments that raised their 
heads in dignity. They stretched along the centre line 
at regular intervals, lending history to the scene. The 
first, at the south end, was the ancient Gothic market- 
cross, of red marble; farther on rose a canopy supported 
by four marble pillars, elevated upon three steps, 
and terminating in a point and ball, — the so-called 
Tribuna, of 1207, from which decrees and judgments 
were given for centuries ; near the centre sat the round 
fountain, built, according to tradition, by King Pepin, 
or Alboin, but first put to its present use by Cansig- 
norio, — its splashing porphyry basin being fed from 
the mouths of masks about the central pillar, and 
the pillar surmounted by a strange, amusing figure of 
"Verona," antique in body, badly medieval in head, 
holding a tin scroll in the hands, and topped by a tin 
crown; while at the northern end appeared the lovely 
Venetian column, of gleaming marble, which was 
reerected with such joy at the close of the War of 
Cambrai; its winged Lion was displaced in 1797, — 
when "Bonaparte addressed a manifesto to the Doge, 
which . . . was followed by a decree ordering the French 
Minister to leave Venice, . . . and the Lion of St. Mark 
to be pulled down in all the continental territories of 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 355 

Venice"; ^ — the first reprisal for the rebellion against 
the French occupation. But it was put up once more 
in 1888. 

The busy populace filled the square and overflowed 
into the picturesque arcades in the first stories of the 
surrounding buildings, underneath which were shops 
and caffes. As I elbowed through the crowd, past 
the monuments, deafened by the pandemonium on 
every side, the variegated contents of the stalls fell 
under my eyes; every kind of produce peculiar to 
Italian life was exposed and freely handled, — all 
varieties of grains, vegetables, fruits and fowls, pitiful 
little slain birds by the hundred, live singing-birds 
in cages, mushrooms and other fungi, flowers, plants, 
boots and clothing, owls and eagles attached to poles 
by strings, combs, brushes, and other articles of toilet 
and the household, live turtles crawling over the 
stocks of goods, — in a word, every conceivable kind 
of ornamental or usable thing, and all mixed together 
in a confusion beyond words. I thought of how many 
ages this morning traffic had so continued, — from the 
far-off days when this place had been the Forum of the 
Roman city, when it had been used by the ancients as 
a circus also, and resounded with the rumble of racing 
chariots. 

I gazed at the western walls, still keeping the oval 
shape of the circus, to observe more closely those 
extraordinary outside frescoes that had been executed 
by Verona's two greatest artists. Girolamo's consisted 
of a Madonna with two saints, and a group of saints 
or apostles above them, — well spaced, composed, 
and colored, the Child still very lovely, the Madonna 
but formerly so; they were altogether much superior 
to any exterior painting I had found in the plain. 

^ Bourrienne, Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte. 



356 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Liberale's work was not so pleasing: a Coronation 
of the Virgin in antique style, and below it a group of 
Adam and Eve, — two heroic naked figures, with the 
woman-headed serpent between them. Roundabout 
were still also visible several series of Cupids and 
wreaths and rich arabesques, with a separate figure of 
an ancient warrior. 

Turning back a little now, I entered the passage just 
to the left of the Palazzo Ragione, topped by two slen- 
der balustraded arches, the second holding suspended 
by a rope one of those jawbones of whales, or ante- 
diluvian mammals, which exercise such a curious fasci- 
nation upon the Italian imagination; this second arch- 
way opened into the famous Piazza dei Signori, one 
of the few most interesting little squares of Italy. 
Here the Scala princes had reigned and built, and from 
them it had received its name and beauty. As I en- 
tered at its southwestern angle, on my right immedi- 
ately was the handsome side of the Palazzo Ragione, 
and beyond it, across an archway, the Palazzo della 
Tribunaler; the Prefettura confronted me upon the 
east, the Palazzo dei Giuriconsulti rose upon the west, 
and upon the north side, glistening like a colossal gem, 
shone the wonderful marbled fagade of the peerless 
Palazzo del Consiglio. All of these were products of the 
Scala genius for building. Upon the last three sides, 
adjacent to the said palaces, opened other passages 
of similar width; but one and all were covered by brick 
or marble arches like that through which I had just 
entered, and two were surmounted by marble statues ; 
so that the place was inclosed in a complete ring of 
palatial splendor, — quiet and deserted compared 
with the noisy Piazza Erbe, but seeming to radiate 
still the dignity and magnificence of the court of the 
Scaligers. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 357 

The construction of the Palazzo Ragione on this 
side was like the Gothic of its tower, — two upper 
stories of alternate courses of red bricks and white 
marble, with some splendid triple windows, above a 
ground story of marble arches; at its eastern end was 
a curious Late-Renaissance surfacing of dark-painted 
stucco, two stories in height and five windows wide, 
with all its openings beautifully decorated by terra- 
cotta mouldings, and by relieved medallions containing 
portrait-heads of the Scala princes. An archway led me 
into its majestic courtyard, around three sides of which 
ran a lofty arcade, of stone quoins upon heavy stone 
pillars; and at its west side rose a grand marble stair- 
,way of the quattrocento, sustained on Gothic arches, 
having a lovely balustrade; its once extended upper 
landing had become perilous, and been mostly re- 
moved. This space was formerly the Mercato Vecchio. 
It commanded an impressive view of the great muni- 
cipal tower at its northwest corner. 

Returning to the Piazza dei Signori, I advanced to 
the neighboring Palazzo Tribunale; it had a heavy, 
red-brick tower at its nearest angle, which contained 
little strongly barred windows, and was topped by 
grim forked battlements; — a veritable donjon, as 
it had proved to be in long-past days for many an 
enemy of the Scaligers, confined in it by the latter 
without charge or warning. According to local story 
the whole of these prisoners were once murdered 
together, — their number running from fifty to four 
hundred, according to the authority. 

A tablet in the palace wall stated that Cansignorio 
had inhabited it from 1359 to 1375, and that it was in 
the sixteenth century remodeled for the Venetian 
Podestas. Its general design was of rich Renaissance 
work, with an entrance arch of fine proportions and 



358 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Corinthian grace, and an extraordinary long balcony 
on the second floor supported by very deep marble con- 
soles. In its large courtyard, one side bore still some 
Renaissance frescoes representing a whole architect- 
ural scheme in great detail, with an angel blowing a 
trumpet in the centre; while the passage out from its 
south side was covered with a most unique marble arch- 
way of the decadent period, seemingly constituted of 
many kinds of implements of war, — the supporting 
columns being cannons resting upon drums for bases, 
and having capitals of mortars loaded with round shot. 
The west side of the court was a quaint, three-storied, 
brick loggia, restored as of old, upon the original an- 
cient columns and supporting Gothic arches. 

Coming out, I stopped to look at the statue of Dante, 
facing the palace from the centre of the piazza, exe- 
cuted by Ugo Zannoni in 1865, after the accepted type; 
then I inspected the plain Palazzo Prefettura on the 
east, which was originally the private palace of Mas- 
tino I, built by him in 1272, and inhabited by him and 
his successors. This was the residence in which Giotto 
painted at Can Grande's order, and Altichieri a little 
later, — in which Bartolommeo I received Dante upon 
the poet's first arrival, and where Dante spent many 
subsequent days and months. It has been remodeled 
by successive rulers, till Mastino would not recog- 
nize it to-day. The original fine stone arches have 
been built-in and plastered over, dismally ; but I could 
clearly see their outlines on the upper stories, as well 
as the blocks of old reliefs that have been defaced. 

Another handsome entrance-arch, by Sammicheli, 
admitted me to its picturesque court, open to the 
north, framed on the south and west sides by imposing 
stone colonnades, sustaining brick, or brick and white 
stone, arches; the alternate heavy pillars and columns. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 359 

with rough-leaved capitals, had their bases two feet 
underground, showing that the level has risen that 
much since their setting, six hundred years ago. The 
upper division of the court's western fagade was re- 
cently restored, with a close imitation of the medieval, 
red-and-white, arched windows, with their handsome 
marble railings. All this red-and-white work is a 
prominent characteristic of old Verona architecture, 
particularly the Gothic, being apparently — as has 
been said — a repetition of her marble hues; it is de- 
lightfully effective, whether in brick alone, or brick 
with marble or limestone, and becomes endeared to 
one's heart by its happy repetitions. 

From this palace I crossed to that of the Giuricon- 
sulti opposite on the west, — a queer, ponderous, rococo 
structure, built in 1278, and, like the others, remodeled 
in the cinquecento; it has very ugly windows in its 
stuccoed fagade, — made unusual by a two-storied, 
stone entrance- arch, as high as those guarding the 
passages; over this is a weird construction in the centre 
of the top story, consisting of four Doric pilasters ris- 
ing from a balustrade to a plain pediment surmounted 
by dwarf obelisks. Atop the arch crowning the pas- 
sage on its right, I observed a statue of the historian, 
Scipione Maffei; and just behind this, in the north- 
west corner, opened a dark, narrow courtyard be- 
tween old houses, whose centre was brightened by a 
most lovely Renaissance well-top. From the rear side 
of the court, a low arched way led obscurely under 
the dwellings to the Piazza Erbe, — the "Volto Bar- 
baro,"^ where Mastino I was killed in 1277. No more 
fitting spot for an assassination could be devised. 

I returned at last to the gem of all the Scala build- 

^ So called, not from the barbaric deed mentioned, but from the former 
palace of the Barbaro family, which was adjacent. 



360 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ings, the pride of Verona, which I had purposely left 
until the end ; and I speak truly when I say that words 
can give little conception of the glorious beauty of the 
Palazzo del Consiglio. What the Basilica Palladiana 
is to the plain-towns in magnificence and majesty, 
this unparalleled structure is in delicate, dainty loveli- 
ness. Built at the very height of the Renaissance, by 
command of the Republic in 1497, every development 
and artifice of the science of classical architecture was 
utilized for its success, — precious marbles, moulded 
terra-cotta, painted stucco, and sculpture, being deftly 
interwoven into a scheme of color that makes it a glow- 
ing mosaic, a softly chromatic lacework, whose unob- 
trusive tints happily accentuate the fairylike design. 
Its genius is that of Fra Giocondo, Verona's great 
architect, who deserves far more general fame than 
he has received; besides erecting several noted build- 
ings in Verona, and in other North Italian cities, he 
assisted in the construction of St. Peter's, and labored 
brilliantly for eight years in France under the orders 
of Louis 5^11.1 

Designed for a town hall, this palace has the inevit- 
able loggia in the ground floor, faced by a colonnade of 
unsurpassable delicacy and grace; above several steps 
rises a dainty balustrade, from which spring seven 
slender marble columns with Corinthian capitals, to 
uphold lightly moulded arches ; in the upper division 
are four delightful double windows, framed by pilas- 
ters wrought with gilded arabesques, and topped by 
lunettes containing gilt, relieved designs; under them 
runs a painted string-course of wreaths and flowers, 
from which, at the angles and between the windows, 
larger stuccoed pilasters, arabesqued and prettily 

^ He was also a remarkable engineer, — as is evidenced by his famous 
walls of Treviso, already described. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 361 

painted in gold, rise to sustain the gilded cornice; 
between the windows and pilasters are frescoed pan- 
els, and- medallions of elegant form; while five marble 
statues surmount the eaves. 

The loggia is entirely faced with gray marble, and 
studded with white plaster medallions holding heads 
of illustrious Veronese ; beside the doorway in its rear 
wall are two life-size bronze figures by Girolamo Cam- 
pagna, representing the Annunciation, and round- 
about, the busts of other natives. The fine oaken ceil- 
ing, heavily beamed and paneled, is exceptionally rich. 
I found the caretaker of the palace in the adjacent 
Prefettura, and visited the princely rooms above the 
loggia. They consist of a splendid central salon, now 
used by the Provincial Council, and two smaller cham- 
bers at the sides, — all recently redecorated in the 
original style. Especially beautiful are the doorways of 
exquisite Renaissance design, in stone or gilded wood, 
framed by pilasters with their faces carved in at- 
tractive arabesques; also the magnificent quattrocento 
ceiling of the salon, elaborately paneled, sculptured, 
and gilded. The council chamber also contains four 
large striking canvases by Paolo Veronese, of much 
merit and beauty, — two being scenes from Verona's 
history, and two, allegorical tableaux concerning the 
city, personified as a woman; the strongest is that of 
the Roman Emperor receiving Verona's crown, of ex- 
ceeding grace and skillful light-effects. Here also 
are some damask curtains, ballot boxes, and velvet 
chairs from the adjacent Scala palace, all of the cinque- 
cento or earlier. 

In the afternoon I returned to this piazza, and de- 
scended the narrow street leaving it at the southeast 
corner, to the near-by Church of S. Maria Antica, — 
and the celebrated tombs of the Scaligers. This little 



362 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

old Gothic edifice, dating from the eleventh century, 
is where the princes were wont to worship, and in 
its small open yard they sleep, appropriately near 
the palaces where they reigned. The church's north- 
ern (or left) side is toward the street, removed a dozen 
yards, leaving room for the small cemetery between 
it and the sidewalk. The inclosing iron grille, rising 
from a red-marble parapet to a height of ten feet, 
and crowned with quaint Gothic statues, bends round 
to the wall of the edifice near its western end, leaving 
a clear approach to its single doorway there located. 

As I approached the spot, I saw first the superb 
Gothic monuments of Mastino II and Cansignorio 
rising behind the railing at the outer angles of the in- 
closure, and soaring far into the air with their pointed 
canopies capped by statues ; then, the low church wall, 
of red-and- white courses, pierced only by the entrance 
and three tiny arched windows; and lastly, the tomb 
of the great Can Grande, rising from the lintel of the 
doorway, to a pyramidal point far above the eaves. 
Topping this and the other monuments were eques- 
trian figures, in marble, like all of the work, mailed 
cap-a-pie, both horses and men, and bearing huge 
winged helmets against the blue. No scene more 
picturesque, or significant of medieval days, could be 
found in all Italy. So exquisitely charming were those 
open masses of trefoil arches, pointed pediments, 
statuettes, and crocketed spires, all soaring gracefully 
heavenward, — it was like stumbling upon a garden 
of frozen white flowers, with the many fairies flitting 
amongst them turned to stone. 

Can Grande's tomb is severe and strong, befitting 
the conqueror; the sarcophagus is carved in bas-relief 
with scenes from his life, and bears two statuettes, but 
the Gothic arches of the sheltering canopy are un- 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 363 

adorned, and the pyramidal spire rising from its roof 
has but a few crockets at the angles. Mastino's mon- 
ument, at the northwest angle of the yard, is a rich 
three-storied structure, — its first two divisions rising 
by corner columns only; the second contains the elab- 
orately carved sarcophagus, with the decedent's re- 
clining figure, and its surrounding arches, with their 
pediments, are heavily decorated. His equestrian fig- 
ure has its vizor drawn; and the popular story goes 
that it was so executed because, after Mastino's mur- 
der of his kinsman. Bishop Bartolommeo, he never 
wished his face to be seen again. 

This monument, executed by one Perino da Milano, 
otherwise unknown, is the best of them all; — Can- 
signorio's, though still larger, and more elaborate, 
being over-decorated and more poorly sculptured. 
Still, it is a wonderful sight, with its forest of flowering 
pinnacles and scores of pleasing statuettes. Save that 
it is hexagonal in shape, instead of square, its vertical 
divisions are like those of Mastino ; but roundabout the 
second division rise six separate small canopies holding 
bronze statues of saintly heroes, and round the spire 
cluster six others, still smaller, containing bronze 
females representing virtues, with half a dozen marble 
"virtues" seated in shell-like niches in the bases of 
the elongated gables. The six columns surrounding 
the sarcophagus are spirally twisted ; four angels stand 
at the corners of the recumbent knight; and on the 
sides are relieved scenes, — which include a portrayal of 
Cansignorio being welcomed to Heaven by the Saviour 
and His Mother ! Over every part is an exuberance of 
decoration unsurpassed for amount and detail, though 
betraying the initial decadence of the style. Its artist 
was Bonino, of the celebrated Campione family.^ 

^ "This magniBcent structure," says Perkins, in his Italian Sculptors, 



364 PLAIN-^TOWNS OF ITALY 

Such is the tomb which that villainous fratricide 
raised during his life, surrounding his dead form with 
all the excellencies which it wanted when alive, trust- 
ing, with them and the beguiling beauties of sculp- 
ture, to earn an undeserved happy immortality. All 
over the monument his emblems are repeated ; and the 
Scala ladder (which is the name's Italian meaning) is 
cunningly wrought throughout the inclosing grille. 
I entered the little yard, paying a small fee to the cus- 
todian who guards the gate, and inspected the minor 
tombs scattered about, fastened to the church wall 
and lying upon the ground. Most of them are simple, 
heavy sarcophagi, — that of Mastino I being distin- 
guished by a cross carved on its side; Alberto's, his 
faithful brother, is cut with various devices, and a 
relief of the deceased kneeling to the Madonna; and 
that of the bastard Giovanni della Scala projects 
from the wall with some most attractive early carving, 
of the Madonna and saints in elaborate niches. I en- 
tered the church also, to find a genuinely Romanesque 
interior, with low narrow aisles, — separated from the 
nave by crude heavy columns, — and round arches 
supporting a flat roof. It was very dark and still, with 
a pervading feeling of vast age. 

I turned down the narrow street leading to the right 
beside the churchyard, passing on the left a remark- 
able ancient house dating from the eleventh century, 
tumbledown and picturesque, with a battlemented 
wall screening a courtyard now desecrated by a filthy 
stable.^ At the end of the short block, and to the right, 

"is the embodiment of the profusely splendid, wayward, lawless life of 
these princes. We find in it the same strange admixture of paganism and 
Christianity, license and childlike faith, architecturally expressed by Ro- 
man and Gothic elements, extravagance of style and simplicity of line." 

^ The local story, that this was a palace of Romeo's family, is an inven- 
tion for the beguilement of tourists. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 365 

upon the south of the Palazzo Tribunale, the pretty- 
little park of the Piazza dell' Independenza opened 
before me, shaded by a giant oak and handsome palms 
and fir trees, having a bronze equestrian statue of 
Garibaldi in its centre, — noticeable because, for once 
at least, the horse's feet were correctly placed. This 
was the private garden attached to Cansignorio's pala- 
tial residence, which he devoted to the uses of the 
people. Under the trees were many benches, occupied 
by loungers and nursemaids. It is a favorite gathering- 
spot, as I afterwards found, for the populace on sum- 
mer evenings. On its west side rises the long, stuccoed, 
rococo Palazzo della Posta. Close by on the east lies 
the river, with the Ponte Umberto, halfway between 
the other principal bridges of delle Navi and di Pietra. 
Returning to the corner of the churchyard, I walked 
a block eastward, — past a fine old Gothic palace on 
the left, — then a block northward, emerging into the 
small piazza of S. Anastasia, fronted on the right by 
that glorious church; it is one of the most perfect 
Gothic edifices in the plain, — a work of the thirteenth 
and fourteenth centuries. The great plain brick f agade, 
whose marble facing has been finished along the base 
only, and around the portal, seemed vast and impos- 
ing upon its high flight of steps. Before it sits a marble 
figure of Paolo Veronese, palette in hand, upon a lofty 
pedestal; and on the north rises the side of the little 
brick Church of S. Pietro Martire, — with its two 
Gothic doorways, and pointed windows, — which was 
founded by the Brandenburg soldiers in the guard of 
Can Grande. Between the rear of it and S. Anastasia 
I saw a short brick waU, with an arched gateway sur- 
mounted by a Gothic tomb ; it was the beautiful tomb 
of Guglielmo da Castelbarco, which Ruskin pronounced 
"the most perfect Gothic monument in the world." 



S66 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Like those of the Scala, it consists of a carved 
sarcophagus with a reclining figure, topped by a can- 
opy of trefoil arches supporting a quadrilateral pyra- 
mid; but the sculptured decorations are dignified 
and charming, and the proportions very symmetrical. 
Through the barred gate I saw a little abandoned yard 
attached to S. Pietro, containing three ether Gothic 
tombs of once prominent persons, — also well pro- 
portioned and designed, though not so ornate. Still 
another Gothic monument was the splendid portal of 
S. Anastasia which I now approached; it was tall and 
deeply recessed, beautifully arched and moulded, 
and contained two doorways, in whose lunettes, and 
in the pediment, were fourteenth-century frescoes. 
But the interior was so surpassingly grand as to drive 
away all thoughts of aught else. 

The noble, aspiring nave, long and very lofty, soared 
upon glistening white columns and pointed arches to a 
groined vaulting, whose cells, as well as the soffits of 
the arches, were covered with that remarkable and 
lovely frescoing in designs, of the early quattrocento, 
which is unique in Late-Gothic work. The lofty aisles, 
likewise handsomely groined and painted, bore their 
side altars affixed directly to the walls; the dim light 
percolated from lancet windows ; and behind the gleam- 
ing high-altar under the distant triumphal arch, the 
short choir ended in a graceful apse. The church was 
filled with exceptional works of art. By the first two 
columns crouched two curious marble figures of hunch- 
backs, bearing holy-water basins on their shoulders, 
of which the left one was by Paolo Veronese's father. 
The right transept contained §ome remarkable paint- 
ings: a St. Paul by Cavazzola, of striking power and 
coloring, a Madonna and Saints by Girolamo dai Libri 
— one of the most beautiful and perfect pietistic works 




VERONA. VIRGIN AND CHILD ENTHRONED. (GIROLAMO DAI LIBRI.) 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 367 

I have ever seen; and, in the second chapel to the right 
of the choir, a superb example of Altichieri, that is 
about the only one now remaining to Verona. This is 
a fresco representing a number of mailed knights 
kneeling before the Madonna, strong in composition, 
action, and lifelikeness, dignified, and impressive, — 
a brilliant exposition of his wonderful powers. As for 
the Girolamo, — I have kept a photograph of its 
fascinating beauty, with every detail like a cameo, set 
up in my room wherever I have gone, from that day 
to this. 

In the next chapel were three rare examples of Mar- 
tini, D' Avanzo, and Stefano da Zevio, and high upon 
the transept wall over the chapel arch, one of the two 
remaining frescoes by the latter's master, Pisanello, 
representing St. George mounting his charger after 
the death of the dragon. Though greatly injured by 
the damp, which has removed the saint's figure and the 
whole left side of the picture, enough lingers still — 
in the spectators and various skillfully executed ani- 
mals — to prove his worthiness of his fame. There is 
almost no coloring left, but a fine modeling, and a 
striking perspective of the fantastical castles perched 
on a hilltop to the rear. In this same chapel the sac- 
ristan showed a figure of Christ alleged to be by Man- 
tegna(.'^), which was being entombed by two cherubs, 
executed by his pupils; and around the window were 
seventeen extraordinary terra-cotta reliefs of the life 
of Christ, vigorous, dramatic tableaux, from the Flor- 
entine quattrocento school. 

The left transept afforded me two more interesting 
works: a group of frescoes in the first chapel, by the 
quattrocentist Francesco Benaglio, — consisting of three 
scenes from the life of Christ, which showed well how 
inferior he was to Altichieri, so long before, — and an 



368 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

engaging panel by Liberale, high, on the west wall, of 
Saints Magdalen, Clara, and Catherine, the Magdalen 
posed above the others, clothed only in her golden hair, 
and attended by two angels. This was a very graceful 
group, of finely-modeled figures, having little coloring, 
as usual with him, but displaying his strong powers of 
realistic flesh- work and vivid feeling. 

In the right aisle I observed a strange, painted, terra- 
cotta group of the Entombment, — a fifteenth-century 
work of unusual dramatic force, the figures life-size 
and natural; also, as a frame to the fourth altar, an 
interesting reproduction on a smaller scale of the 
famous Arco de' Gavi of the Romans, — a marble 
triumphal arch which until modern times stood near 
the Castel Vecchio, and was the city's chief object of 
beauty. In the left aisle, finally, were four fairly good 
pictures, two specimens each of the work of the cinque- 
centists, Niccolo Giolfino and Michele da Verona, — 
the former's style being very free and advanced, the 
latter's curiously antique; here also was a resplendent 
Renaissance altar-frame of astonishing decorativeness, 
including nine statues and a dozen marble columns. — 
Seldom is there a church to be found anywhere with 
such a wealth of artistic treasures of the first class. 
Later, I obtained from the quay a view of its back, 
showing clearly its splendid proportions, graceful apse, 
and tall, imposing, Gothic campanile. 

My next walk, on the following morning, took me 
farther northeast to the extreme end of the peninsula, 
occupied by the group of the Cathedral buildings. 
The Via Duomo from the Piazza of S. Anastasia led 
me directly northward a few blocks to the piazza of 
the Duomo, upon which the latter fronts westward. 
This great edifice was first erected about 800, over a 
temple to Minerva, but now stands a Gothic structure 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 369 

of the trecento, with a twelfth-century, Romanesque 
choir and fagade, of the Lombard style; — its chief 
material being red and white marbles in courses upon 
the sides. The picturesque front, of yellowish-brown 
marble below and whitened brick at the top, appealing 
through its Lombard mixture of heaviness and light 
details, was very pleasing to me, with the exception of 
the two large pointed windows of later date. The roof 
has a double pitch or gable, — the second and loftier 
one being over the centre only, — with Lombard, 
arcaded cornices along each, and five pinnacles rising 
from the corners and apex. The main attraction is the 
two-storied porch, round-arched in both divisions but 
thoroughly Gothic, and of graceful lightness in the 
slender supporting columns that rise from the backs of 
antique crouching lions. Its entrance is exquisitely 
and deeply recessed; at the sides of it stand the small 
relieved figures of Roland and Oliver, already men- 
tioned, very quaint in style and execution. 

The interior is not so noble and imposing as S. 
Anastasia, being much lower, and widely open through 
the extreme spacing of the four clustered Gothic pillars 
on each side, with their flat arches; nor is it adorned 
with frescoes upon the vaulting, — whose groining- 
cells are unhappily blue with gilt stars. The wide 
aisles have no chapels, and the curious altar-frames 
reach to their vaultings, nearly as high as that of the 
nave. These frames are painted architectural schemes, 
by Falconetto, representing grand marble arches 
adorned with exuberant sculptures and statues, — 
an absurd effect, which is heightened by the supposed 
statues being colored brightly, as if they were live 
personages posing there aloft. At the end of the nave 
I saw Sammicheli's splendid choir-screen, — a semi- 
circular roodloft of yellowish-cream marble, open 



370 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

above, with fine Ionic columns carrying a simple 
entablature. Far above this again, over the triumphal 
arch, a vividly tinted fresco of the Annunciation 
looked down from its group of fancy angels; and be- 
hind, from the vaulting of the apse, glowed Torbido's 
large fresco of the Assumption of the Virgin, which 
was designed by Giulio Romano. 

There were a few very enjoyable works of art here, 
among the large number: on the second altar to the 
right, Liberale's charming panel of the Magi, — re- 
plete with bright colors and happy fancies, reminding 
me strongly of the great Florentine, Gozzoli, — and 
three canvases by Giolfino, — a Pieta, and two groups 
of saints, of considerable fairness and gentleness; at 
the end of the right aisle, the beautiful Gothic tomb of 
St. Agatha, from 1353, showing in marble a nun's form 
of tender loveliness lying upon a bier, with four angels 
at the corners, covered by an exquisitely designed 
and sculptured Gothic canopy, — the whole supported 
by other columns, and adorned from base to lofty sum- 
mit with a marvelous wealth of carving ; the beautiful 
Renaissance framework of the shallow chapel contain- 
ing the tomb ; the fine old bronze reliquaries and mon- 
strances upon its altar; the frescoes of Torbido in the 
choir, from the life of the Virgin; and last, but chiefly, 
in a stately frame by Sansovino over the first altar to 
left, Titian's enchanting picture of the Assumption. 
This celebrated work, though much darkened and dis- 
colored, is a superlative composition of lifelike dra- 
matic figures, of intense expression, — the large forms 
of the apostles grouped about the empty sarcophagus, 
in wonder, having just perceived the Madonna borne 
above them on a cloud, kneeling with folded hands, 
gazing sweetly back at them. In the same aisle, upon 
the organ and under its loft, I found some very cap- 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 371 

tivating work by Brusasorci, including a number of 
angels of bewitching beauty. Ah, in Verona, one is 
continually dazzled by the enticing loveliness of her 
painted feminine forms, and the unspeakably joyous 
glory of their coloring. 

Through a door to the left of the choir I passed to 
the adjacent early Church of S. Maria Matriculata, 
studded with old Roman columns like a crypt, and 
beyond it, to the tenth-century Baptistery, S. Giovanni 
in Fonte, — a thoroughly Byzantine structure, with a 
restored roof, dimly lighted by tiny arched windows 
in the right and end walls, which were bare and white. 
Diverse columns and pillars of ancient Roman edi- 
fices, with rounded arches, separated the nave from 
the low narrow aisles. An air of vast antiquity per- 
meated this dusky place, assisted by the fragments of 
Byzantine frescoes here and there, — saintly figures 
drawn like mosaic; there were also a Madonna and 
several saints of the tenth century, and various tab- 
leaux of the quaint trecento. The custode exhibited a 
Pieta which he said was by Mantegna, — a badly in- 
jured panel, still betraying masterly anatomy and 
expressivensss ; also a Baptism of Christ by Farinato, 
on a huge scale. Most interesting was the old baptis- 
mal font in the centre, dating from at least 1200, — 
a high octagonal basin of yellow marble, its sides cut 
with remarkable New Testament scenes, having in its 
middle the red marble tub in which the priest was 
wont to keep himself dry while immersing the converts. 
The reliefs were very wonderful for work of that dark 
age, especially the journey into Egypt; — so lifelike, 
dignified, and well composed were they, with little 
appearance of Byzantine moulds. 

Adjacent to this edifice I visited the little twelfth 
century church of S. Elena, included, like the others, 



372 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

in the cathedral close; in it, according to the legend, 
Dante in 1320 gave his Latin lecture of "De Aqua 
et Terra." It is a bare, barnlike place, wooden-roofed, 
with some finely carved choir-stalls, and containing 
two good pictures, — a Deposition by Falconetto, and 
a lovely Madonna and Saints in a glowing sunset 
scene, alleged to be the work of Brusasorci. 

Returning to S. Maria, we found on its farther, 
western side a pleasing old cloister of about 1200, with 
colonnades of coupled slim red shafts; and underneath 
it, exposed in places by opened pits, a splendid Roman 
mosaic pavement, in graceful designs of vases, birds, 
animals, an olive tree, a dove eating grapes, etc., ex- 
■ ecuted with great naturalness, in harmonious hues 
of black and white and red. The intelligent caretaker 
of this portion of the buildings assured me that the 
pavement, which had been but recently discovered, 
was proved to extend to the dimensions of one 
hundred and fifty by four hundred feet, and had un- 
questionably been the flooring of a Roman bath. 
West agaifl of the cloister extends the Palazzo dei 
Canonici, — from which I just then saw the Archbishop 
emerge in full ceremonial robes, and pass by me into 
the Duomo. The palace contains a celebrated library 
of ancient manuscripts, the Biblioteca Capitolare, 
including codexes of unsurpassable value, from the 
fifth to the ninth centuries. In it Petrarch brought to 
light the letters of Cicero. 

The Bishop's residence lies at the east end of the 
Cathedral, and I now left the church by the south 
door to walk around to it. From this side the exterior 
view of the huge red-and-white edifice was most 
imposing, — with the buttresses topped by pinnacles, 
the wide projecting transept, and the chapel apses 
embellished by effective pilaster-strips. The side porch 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 373 

was like the main one, on a somewhat smaller scale, 
with delightful old carvings of weird beasts and 
Eombard capitals. On reaching the rear of the build- 
ing, its lofty apse presented a handsome sight; and 
still more pleasing, across the way, was a sudden 
vista revealed to me through a barred gate, of the 
richly verdurous garden of the Palazzo Zamboni, — 
flowers of every shade, masses of varied foliage, marble 
statues gleaming against them, tinkling fountains, 
and peaceful paths wandering in the shade. 

Just beyond, on the north side of the street, I came 
to the Vescovado, behind a courtyard screened by a 
high wall. Upon entering, this wall proved to be an 
arcade toward the court, supported by a variegated 
lot of very old columns, each different from the others, 
— one of them being cut all over with little Gothic 
arches; the story above them, showing traces of having 
once been entirely frescoed in arabesques, was pierced 
with Gothic windows. On the west projected the apse 
of the Duomo; on the east was a Renaissance arcade 
of two divisions; on the north, the ancient stuccoed 
fagade of the palace, bearing marble Gothic windows 
and a medieval tower, with several old statues at its 
foot. I rang at the main doorway, under a portico, and 
an aged servitor showed me over the piano nohile. In 
its private chapel were exhibited three delicious little 
panels by Liberale, — the Magi, and the Birth and 
Death of the Virgin — exquisitely composed and 
colored, realistic, yet with an idyllic atmosphere, 
and executed with the perfect finish of miniatures. 

To the right of the central tower we entered a 
very fine old Gothic chamber, with a beautifully 
carved wooden ceiling, Gothic stone doorways, and 
vertical wall-beams also attractively carved, — a rare 
treasure to find in Italy now. Here was a curious 



374 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

specimen of Caroto, — the Resurrection of Lazarus, — 
with rather unpleasing figures but a briUiant tone 
and landscape. Then I was taken to the great hall on 
the second-floor front, containing an altar and a big 
fireplace, adorned with indifferent landscapes frescoed 
in large scale around the walls, and, above the latter, 
in an unbroken circuit at the cornice, the full-length 
portrait figures of all the Bishops of Verona, from 
St. Peter to Pisamus in 1668, executed by Brusasorci. 
They were portrayed as standing upon a gallery, two 
between each pair of pillars, — were powerfully drawn, 
and of most extraordinary individuality, although 
mostly produced from the imagination. From jthe 
northern rooms I looked directly upon the rushing 
river, across a pretty little terraced garden. 

This was just the spot where the stream bends from 
its northeastern course around to a southeasterly one ; 
and on walking a hundred paces to the southeast, 
through the irregular Piazza Brolo with its old stuccoed 
houses, I came to the ancient Ponte di Pietra,^ crossing 
to the foot of the castle hill. Its foundations and two of 
its arches are still Roman. Traversing the picturesque, 
medieval, towered gateway that arches its end, I stood 
upon it for a while watching the enchanting scene 
around me, — the glistening hill with its palace and 
beetling cypresses, the massive stone quays along the 
east side, the decrepit old buildings here backing upon 
the west bank, the floating wooden mills anchored in 
the rushing water, with heavily turning wheels, con- 
nected by narrow foot-bridges with the shore, — and 
the lovely green heights billowing away on the north- 
east, crowned with stone fortresses. 

^ So named by the medievals in distinction from their one other bridge, 
the Ponte delle Navi, which, as its name signifies, was then a wooden con- 
struction upon floats. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 375 

Turning southward from the bridge, to return to 
my hotel and lunch, by the street that curves around 
westerly to the vicinity of S. Anastasia, I noticed on 
its right side an excellent example of one of the medie- 
val Veronese customs: an aged building containing a 
shop for dry groceries, — which in Italy are always 
sold separately from the fresh produce, — adorned 
under its cornice with a painted frieze composed of 
several varieties of those wares. Such was its sign. 
But this frescoing dated from the sixteenth century, 
showing that the same business had been carried on 
there for four hundred years, probably by the same 
family, — a thing not uncommon here. Think of a 
business house founded at the time of the discovery 
of the new world, — and only a retail shop of the small- 
est class, at that. Near where this Via Ponte Pietra 
strikes the Via Duomo, I passed another interesting 
edifice, — a beautiful old palace with an adjacent 
statued garden seen through a wicket, as lovely as a 
dream of the most courtly days of long ago. 

That afternoon I visited the extreme part of Veron- 
etta north of the castle hill, and including the latter; 
starting out over the modern iron bridge named after 
Garibaldi, which crosses just west of the Piazza del 
Duomo. From the bridge opened a charming prospect 
up the river, southwest, closed by the huge brick mass 
of the castle of the Scaligers at its farther bend, topped 
with formidable towers and battlements, — and by 
its extraordinary crenelated bridge, which certainly 
must be unlike any other in the world. It is heavy, 
dark, and menacing, borne on ponderous piers, flanked 
and crowned with towers, and slopes steeply from the 
castle to the northern shore. This side of it the cur- 
rent was filled with half a dozen more floating mills, 
whose great revolving wheels showed its tremendous 



376 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

force. To the eastward was another line of old dwell- 
ings, backing upon the water with mouldering walls 
and bits of garden, curving from the hill of S. Pietro 
up the left bank, to a vast brick church in a sun-baked 
piazza, which faced westward with its right flank 
upon the stream. It was my first objective point, the 
Church of S. Giorgio in Braida, which contains many 
fine paintings, — amongst them, Girolamo's master- 
piece, and Verona's. 

The Venetian city wall curves round the edifice, 
striking the river between it and the Ponte Garibaldi; 
so I quickly found myself walking through a little 
park along the moat, which was stone-banked to a 
depth of thirty feet. Then I crossed it by a bridge to 
a white-stone city gate of good Renaissance lines, set 
in the shadow of a huge round corner bastion, and, 
penetrating the long dark archway, emerged upon the 
Piazza of S. Giorgio. Its plain rococo fagade of light 
stone was uninteresting; but on being admitted through 
its side door by an old woman, the sacristan's wife, 
I stood antidst a glittering display of paintings sur- 
passing nearly every church I had ever seen. The 
absence of aisles and transepts permitted the decora- 
tions of the side altars, set in shallow recesses, as well 
as those of the twin gilded organ-lofts and the choir, to 
pour their wealth of brilliant colors upon the observer 
like a princely gallery of art; a fine soft light illuminated 
the canvases from the white-washed dome, and a 
further beauty shone from the handsome Renaissance 
marble railing inclosing the elevated choir, with its 
eight surmounting bronze statues of saints. 

Dominating this galaxy with its rich clear tone, 
glowed the great masterpiece of Girolamo dai Libri 
from the fourth altar on the left. I remember still the 
sensations with which I gazed upon it, entranced. To 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 377 

describe it, — there was naught but a Madonna simply 
throned before an alluring landscape of fields, woods, 
and hills dotted with castles, under the fruited lemon 
tree which was the master's emblem, — with Saints 
Zeno and Lorenzo Giustiniani standing at her sides, and 
three angels of incredible beauty singing at her feet; but 
what words could give an idea of its unutterable charm, 
its serene loveliness of figure, atmosphere and expres- 
sion, its sense of a millennial tranquillity surpassing 
earthly joys, whose note is struck by the melody of 
those enchanting singers. Deeply golden is the tone, 
the inner glow; the figures stand forth with a fidelity 
to nature as striking as their haunting grace; their faces 
of celestial loveliness, calm but beautiful, fill the be- 
holder with delight, and the sumptuous, gleaming col- 
ors of their embroidered robes fuse into one scintillating 
harmony. Truly this was the zenith of Verona's art, — 
the representative of its highest ideas and excellencies. 

The other most prominent specimens of the school 
here were a realistic, well-modeled Martyrdom of 
St. Lawrence by Stefano da Zevio, exhibiting his ad- 
vanced powers ; two pleasing, brightly hued specimens 
of Caroto, — an Annunciation and a St. Ursula with 
her virgins, both showing his peculiar grace; and a 
Martyrdom of St. George in Paolo Veronese's later 
manner, — perhaps the best work of his yet remaining 
in his native town. But I was also pleased by superb 
examples of the two great masters of Brescia, — an- 
other Martyrdom of St. George, by Romanino, and a 
Madonna in clouds above five female saints, by Mo- 
re tto; the former was in four separate panels, of much 
realism and expressiveness, the latter in Moretto's 
characteristic, unmistakable tone, of silvery gray, — 
displaying surpassing beauty in the rounded figures, 
and their dignified, restful disposition. 



378 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

From S. Giorgio I followed the street southeast, 
parallel with the bend of the river, to the smaller 
Church of S. Stefano. This was another red-and- white 
edifice, with a simple portal in its plain f agade of the 
eleventh century, topped by a rose-window and ap- 
proached by steps. The original church here was the 
oldest in Verona, its first cathedral, destroyed by 
Theodoric in the sixth century; the present one was 
built upon its remains, — turning the ancient choir 
into a crypt by constructing a new choir above it. After 
some trouble in finding the sacristan at his dwelling 
near by, I was admitted to the nave, which appeared 
short and narrow, separated by stucco pillars and arches 
from the low, restricted aisles, and covered by a mod- 
ern wooden ceiling; the presbytery was exceptionally 
elevated, and approached by narrow stairs in the aisles, 
between which extended a red marble railing. Under 
this railing steps descended to the dark crypt; and over 
it was visible the high-altar, with a bright modern 
fresco above it. There were but two chapels to the 
right, and one to the left; — altogether a most un- 
usual, strange edifice, with an air of exceeding anti- 
quity. 

In the second chapel to the right was a picture by 
Brusasorci, of good tactile value, — S. Stefano aiding 
Christ to carry the Cross, with eight saints below; in 
the first chapel were two tombs at the sides, holding 
the remains of two bishops and forty early martyrs. 
Climbing to the presbytery, which was lengthened 
like a transept, I saw another work of Brusasorci in 
its central dome, — the Saviour and four Evangelists, 
with the instruments of the Passion curiously scattered 
over the adjacent vaulting, — and at its right end, 
a Caroto of beautiful bluish tinting, representing the 
Madonna with Saints Peter and Andrew, before a 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 379 

wide landscape. Here was another queer construction, 
a highly raised ambulatory around the small choir, 
reached by steps at each side of the high-altar; in its 
walls were embedded ancient columns, and at its rear 
stood the first episcopal seat of Verona, dating from 
the sixth century, simply made of heavy marble slabs. 
To the left in the presbytery was a fresco by Stefano 
da Zevio, a Coronation of the Virgin, with a host of 
pretty angels roundabout, and an Annunciation below. 

Descending the twelve steps to the crypt, past an 
antique statue of St. Peter, from the third century, it 
appeared to extend the full width of the presbytery 
above, — which was supported by a row of ancient 
columns down the middle. Here was the original choir, 
under the later one, and the original ambulatory, 
likewise elevated and approached by steps at each 
end. It seemed strange to stand in the very edifice 
ruined by Theodoric fourteen centuries ago. 

S. Stefano has also an unusually picturesque tower, 
of Romanesque design, rising upon the dome, and 
visible only from above. I climbed the hill of S. 
Pietro, from the east end of the Ponte di Pietra, and 
soon commanded a clear view of this curious old 
tower; it is of brick, very broad, and octagonal in 
shape, consisting of two stories of open arcades, each 
containing eight double arches. 

The steep, narrow way, a veritable staircase, 
mounted between decaying old houses, bore to the 
right between walled fields, and finally brought me, 
out of breath, to an esplanade before the castle. Here 
the panorama was superb; just below me stretched 
the line of cypresses, below them again a medieval 
cloister, and then the ruins of the excavated Roman 
theatre, which stood against the base of the hill a little 
south of the bridge; the rows of broken white seats. 



380 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the flagged pit, the shattered stage, lay beneath 
me Hke a plan. Beyond them flowed the shining river 
with its bright quays; and the sea of tiled roofs, with 
towers of every age, extended far away between the 
silvery windings to the sunburnt open plain. Toward 
the north this crept into the enfolding mountains, with 
their black flanks and dentated outlines. 

In the castle itself there was nothing to see; this 
modern barrack, rising behind its inclosed, empty 
court, has hidden from sight the ruins of Theodoric 
.and Gian Galeazzo. Soldiers lounged in the windows, 
and sentries guarded the open gates. I thought of 
what a different view the Ostrogoth must have be- 
held when he reigned on this summit, — the imperial 
marble city, still largely existing, in its splendor of 
baths, temples, and palaces; of which to-day there 
remained beneath my eye only those broken frag- 
ments of the theatre below, and the distant mutilated 
arches of the Arena. 

From the northern end of Piazza Erbe runs one of 
the main thoroughfares of the city, a little south of 
west, under the successive names of Corso Porta 
Borsari and Corso Cavour, directly to the Castel 
Vecchio of the Scaligers; whence it continues as a 
modern wide avenue to the far-off Porta Palio. The 
Hotel Aquila Nera is located midway between Corso 
Borsari and Via Nuova; and just an equal distance to 
the north beyond the former rises the large Church of 
S. Eufemia, the remaining object of interest in the 
eastern half of the peninsula. It is a brick structure of 
the thirteenth century, of general Gothic type, crowded 
closely between houses, with only a small open space 
before the fagade. It has a curious brick front, with 
two long windows at the sides of a simple Gothic door- 
way, and an old tomb fastened under each window, — 




VEROXA. ALTAR TRIRTY( H IX CHUKCll OF SAX ZEXU MAGGIORE. 
(AXDREA MAXTEGNA.) 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 381 

the right one of the fourteenth century, the left of 
shapely Renaissance design, by Sammicheli. Another 
tomb by Sammicheli is attached to the south wall near 
the side portal, — to whose marble reliefs my eyes 
were first drawn, on arriving early one morning, pre- 
pared for a long walk to the western quarters, 

I entered the nave at once, finding a long, wide, aisle- 
less space, with altars affixed to its bare walls and a 
flat vaulting overhead, having no transept, and but a 
small choir, with flanking chapels. The right chapel 
was formerly distinguished by some grand frescoes of 
Caroto, — which have now been practically destroyed 
by the damp and by retouching, — also his master- 
piece of the three Archangels, upon canvas, which has 
now been removed to the city museum. Over the side 
altars there remained a Brusasorci, — of the Madonna 
in clouds with saints below, very light in tone, coloring, 
and weight, — and a fine example of Moretto of Bres- 
cia, similar in subject, but with far more grace and ex- 
pression, in his strange green tone. There is a super- 
stitious custom in some parts of Italy of retaining half- 
witted men as assistant sacristans ; and the one in this 
church was the most daft I had yet encountered. He 
wandered about mumbling to himself, and could be 
made to understand nothing. 

Close by in this street I noticed a house with fine 
Gothic windows and a beautiful Gothic balcony of 
openwork marble; and on returning to Corso Borsari, 
I observed the adjacent little Church of S. Giovanni 
in Foro, which — as its name implies — was first 
built in the ancient days when the near-by Piazza Erbe 
was still the Forum, and whose present fagade bears 
some pleasing Gothic details. Then I marched west- 
ward, with the tracks of the tramway, soon reaching 
a stone screen that blocked the street from wall to wall. 



382 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

rising to a height of three stories, with two large arches 
in the ground story for the passage of vehicles. It was 
the Porta Borsari of the Romans, — the outer shell 
of one of their city gates. 

This very interesting relic of the building of Gallie- 
nus still preserved much of the original adornment 
upon its face, and was especially significant to me, 
because this decoration was the forerunner of the Re- 
naissance style : here were the half -columns, the pilas- 
ters, the pediments, and classic window-frames, — the 
whole key-note of the Renaissance method. One 
might testify that it was a relic of the sixteenth cent- 
ury, — aside from the age of the stones. Beside the 
two large arches in their Corinthian settings, was a 
smaller archway for pedestrians, and over them were 
two divisions of half a dozen little windows each, 
round-headed, and set in double frames, — some of 
which are demolished. But it is a standing proof of 
the directness with which the Italian Renaissance 
style was reproduced from the later Roman. 

The Corso Cavour, which I now followed, was wider 
and rnore imposing, and so lined with fine palaces as 
to rank first in the city. Immediately to the right rose 
the Renaissance, rococo Palazzo Ponzoni; to the left, 
the house of the painter Niccolo Giolfino, showing 
traces of the frescoes with which he had once covered 
it; next it were the little Piazza and Church of SS. 
Apostoli, having a medieval tower made of all sorts of 
material, and three ancient Roman tombs afiixed to 
its wall. Beyond, still on the left side, rose the splen- 
did Palazzo Bevilacqua of Sammicheli, with a lofty, 
rusticated, stone fagade of exceeding beauty, and a 
handsome court possessing a good open stairway. 
Opposite this structure stood an old Gothic archway, 
capped by a statue of St. Lawrence with his gridiron. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 383 

— the entrance to the restricted yard and side portal 
of the Church of S. Lorenzo; this is one of Verona's 
most interesting edifices, said to have been first built 
in the fifth century upon a ruined temple of Venus. 

The present church of the eleventh century is thor- 
oughly Romanesque, and delightfully picturesque. 
Its fagade, turned westward upon another little court 
entered from the quay, is like a medieval stronghold 
in appearance, with round towers at the angles, pierced 
only by loophole apertures, and but a narrow wall- 
space between them, cut with a single doorway and 
tiny windows; the material is fully as odd-looking, 
being unplastered red brick and yellowish tufa, in 
alternate rough courses. 

When I entered, by a later side portico of Renais- 
sance design, it was to stand amazed at the strange- 
ness of the interior: here was a genuine, early Roman 
basilica, with two-storied arcades all around a narrow 
nave, like S. Agnese fuori le Mura at Rome; they were 
heavily constructed, of the same red-and- white mate- 
rials, with piers of grouped columns and single col- 
umns, alternately; a light, marble, classic cornice sur- 
mounted the lower arches, and the vaulting was 
whitewashed. Naught else was plastered, not even 
the rough walls of the apsidal choir, pierced by little 
unframed windows far aloft. Through other such tiny 
openings in the upper gallery walls, shafts of yellow 
light from glass of that hue percolated the dusk with 
a weird, antique effect. These bare walls had all been 
plastered and frescoed long ago, however, as was 
evident by the small irregular fragments of such 
work in Byzantine style, lingering here and there in 
corners. One Renaissance canvas occupied the apse 
wall, — a rich, glowing Madonna and Saints by 
Brusasorci. 



384 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Continuing my way down the Corso Cavour, after 
passing some more fine palaces, including Sammicheli's 
majestic Palazzo Canossa, — I reached the Castel 
Vecchio, and the piazza on its east side stretching from 
street to river. This space contains a bronze statue of 
Cavour, — who deserves more such memorials, — 
and commands a clear view of the stronghold with its 
battlemented bridge. Heavy square towers stand at 
the four angles of the castle, no higher than its walls; 
a moat, now dry, surrounds it, and the keep raises its 
fierce, lofty head above the springing of the bridge in 
the rear wall. A very peaceful look is given the eastern 
part by the insertion of modern windows and the 
growth of trees and vines in the grassy fosse; but I 
found the central and western portions still perforated 
by the old slanting apertures for the fire of arquebuses 
and carronades; and across the main drawbridge, 
through the guard-tower of the entrance, I saw sol- 
diers filling the spacious courtyard as of yore. 

For the place is now a barrack, with no ingress 
allowed. A* separate lane through its western part, for 
the convenience of the public, led me between high 
walls, under several archways, to the entrance of the 
bridge and its guarding keep. Contadini with asses 
laden with panniers were passing in and out. Climb- 
ing the side parapet of the bridge, I looked between 
two of its eight-foot battlements at the frowning 
river-wall of the castle, and the tawny Adige dashing 
below. 

To-day thou still, O tireless fugitive. 

Dost murmuring pass upon thy way, beneath 

The Scaligers' old battlemented bridge.'- 

In those very walls, I reflected, the cowardly Can 
Grande II huddled himself from the people's gaze, 

^ M. W. Arms's translation of Carducci. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 385 

and met the death which he sought to avoid, at the 
hand of his murderous brother. But turning away, 
I followed the quay along the right bank, which here 
curved to the northward with the stream; and after 
walking more than a third of a mile, swerved west- 
ward to the large Piazza of S. Zeno. Here in the ex- 
treme northwestern corner of the city stands its great- 
est church, between the fortifications and the river, 
facing the walls over a vast, dirt-paved, sunny piazza, 
and turning its apse upon the hurtling waters. This 
quarter, perhaps populous in the prime of Venetian 
days, is now mostly bare and deserted, — a congeries 
of silent, walled lanes between wide stretches of shady 
gardens, with a few scattered dwellings. 

Looking over the empty square vibrating with 
heated air, loomed the impressive fagade of the his- 
toric church, simple and dignified, constructed of 
yellowish-white stone, — one of the finest accomplish- 
ments of Lombard art. The nave with its gable is 
much loftier than the slanting roofs of the aisles; along 
the eaves runs an arcaded cornice; a handsome rose- 
window tops the canopied portal, and pilaster-strips 
in Lombard fashion are attached vertically at short 
intervals. There is no other window, the only other 
decoration being a Romanesque arcade of little blind 
arches, like very small double windows blocked up, 
crossing the fagade near the top of the portal. The 
canopy of the latter is a simple round-arched gable, 
supported by slender columns rising from red-marble, 
antique lions, with stone panels at the sides contain- 
ing many Lombard reliefs, and other painted reliefs 
in the tympanum. The building was begun about 
900 and completed in 1178, when the peace was signed 
between the League and Frederick Barbarossa; its 
design indicates the culmination of that architect- 



386 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ural period which Ruskin calls "the introduction of 
Christianity into barbaric minds." ^ 

Adding to the dignity given the edifice by its iso- 
lated situation, are the two large towers isolated at 
the sides, of equal age but diverse appearance; — the 
campanile being to the right, in red-and- white courses 
like the sides of the church, tall, square, and without 
windows to its two-storied belfry, which is surmounted 
by a spire with corner pinnacles; the other being a 
square, red-brick, battlemented tower, patched, 
blocked up and reopened like a crazy-quilt, — all that 
remains of the medieval monastery, where the Em- 
perors were wont to stay. Advancing to the church's 
portal, I studied the curious Lombard reliefs beside it, 
thoroughly characteristic in their archaic figures of 
huntsmen, animals, and other evidences of Lombard 
out-door life, including the celebrated "Chase of 
Theodoric." The legend is represented by the King 
as a horseman chasing a stag, which he vainly and 
wildly follows to the very gates of Hell. 

But when the bronze doors of the entrance were 
before me, I forgot everything else in incredulous won- 
der at their decoration. I was looking upon bronze 
reliefs of the ninth century, in forty-eight divided 
squares, — the only artistic work of such a nature 
remaining to us from that dark age, and to me the 
most interesting object in all Verona. The panels, 
about a foot in diameter, contain miniature figures 
of much crudity, enacting scenes from the Old and New 
Testaments, without backgrounds or any regularity of 
composition, much as a child would draw; but what 

^ Ruskin, Verona, and other Lectures. — According to Mr. Perkins 
{Italian Sculptors) the church was founded in the sixth century, and com- 
pleted by Emperor Otho I in the tenth; but I cannot see where he obtained 
, his authority. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 387 

pen could describe their extraordinary dramatic action, 
their vigor, and intensity of feehng! They are fasci- 
nating beyond compare, — these uncouth forms, with 
the strange pointed hats of the Lombards, coming 
down to us from that far-off silent time of artistic 
ignorance; here were tense dramatic composition and 
motion, significance of pose and expression, five centu- 
ries before Giotto. 

After a long inspection, I passed through the inner 
doors, down several steps into the nave, which 
stretched majestically before me with rhythmically 
curving arches, like a pealing anthem, and soaring far 
aloft to a handsome wooden roof similar to Padua's 
Eremetani; bare stone and brick were everywhere, in 
red-and-white courses; it had a beauty above that of 
riches. It is one of the noblest edifices I know, — one 
of the few grandest churches of all Italy. The compa- 
ratively small, but lofty, round arches, resting upon 
alternate piers and columns, divide off the much lower 
aisles, which have neither altars nor chapels; a great 
length marks its stern, sublime grandeur ; the distant 
choir rises high upon the visible arches of the crypt 
behind the central descending steps, — its front balus- 
trade crowned with marble statues ; and over the high- 
altar in the rear towers a Gothic triumphal arch, fram- 
ing the groined and vertical divisions of the graceful 
apse, glistening at the top with frescoes. Here it was 
that Ezzelino in 1238 led the daughter of the Emperor 
to the altar. Oh, for a magic glass to call up again 
that spectacle, — the glittering nobles in their silken 
long-hose and jewels, the long-trained ladies, the men- 
at-arms in gleaming casques and corselets, — holding 
back the motley, gay crowd of bourgeois, — the Em- 
peror on his throne, and the Archbishop in all his 
glory! 



388 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

By the first column to the left I noticed the ancient . 
porphyry vase, nearly ten feet in diameter, which 
according to the legend was brought to S. Zeno from 
Rome by a demon; and on the choir parapet, its quaint 
Byzantine statues of Christ and the apostles, of the 
thirteenth century. On the right wall of the choir 
hangs Verona's most cherished painting, in an ex- 
quisitely carved Renaissance frame, — the celebrated 
panel of Madonna and Saints by Mantegna (1459) 
which wrought such a revolution in the Verona school, 
and set the type for its pietistic work. Though ported 
to Paris by Napoleon, and carried back (minus the 
three predelle, which are now but copied), it is still 
marvelously beautiful. 

It is divided by Corinthian columns into three verti- 
cal compartments; the throned Madonna sits in the 
central division, surrounded by captivating, melodi- 
ous putti, with suspended wreaths of luscious fruits 
overhead; four bright-robed saints stand in each of 
the side c©mpartments, and between the rear pillars 
of the covering portico is visible a turquoise-blue sky 
striped with whitest clouds. The glorious, well-pre- 
served coloring is a scheme of richest blues and orange 
and lavender, the grace of the forms supernal, the 
atmosphere and expression of a celestial, calm felicity. 
Compared with Mantegna's still earlier works, the 
influence of Bellini is dominantly manifest. 

In the crypt I beheld five rows of antique marble 
columns, of every shape and sort of capital, including 
horrid mouthing beasts and deformed humans in large 
numbers, and at the back, the bronze sarcophagus of 
S. Zeno upon a marble pedestal. The cloisters, off the 
north aisle, are lovely, composed of arcades with 
coupled little red-marble columns, of the thirteenth and 
fourteenth centuries, with crude-leaved capitals; and 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 389 

various early tombs lie in the corridors, — the latter 
being the entire contents of the "museum" which the 
guidebooks speak of. Two sides of the rectangle have 
Romanesque arches and two have Gothic arches. 
Here the Emperors were used to walk with the abbots 
when staying at the monastery, many centuries ago. 
In Dante's day the abbot was Giuseppe, bastard son 
of Alberto della Scala, for which appointment Alberto 
is rebuked in the Purgatorio, canto xix. 

I stepped over to the near-by gate and bastion of 
S. Zeno, in the city wall, and enjoyed outside a splen- 
did view of the fertile plain and looming mountains, 
the tremendous fortifications with their deep moat 
and mighty embankments, the stone bastion with its 
angles and sallyports, and the handsome Renaissance 
fagade of the gate, erected by Sammicheli, in yellow 
brick with stone trimmings. Then I followed the out- 
side road along the walls for a third of a mile south- 
ward, to the bastion and gate of S. Bernardino, close 
inside ivhich I came to the renowned church of that 
name. Rising behind a courtyard with extensive ar- 
cades was its simple brick fagade, fronting southward, 
having a Renaissance marble doorway, two lancet 
Gothic windows beside it, and a rose-window over- 
head. The monastery of the Franciscans — by whom 
the edifice was built in the quattrocento and to whom 
it still appertained — lay upon the west side; it had 
now been secularized, — except one cloister, reached 
through the church, where dwelt the few friars left. 
I saw three of them passing about, — reverend, white- 
haired figures, of much dignity and pathos, — tend- 
ing the building with a touching care. 

The interior proved to be a nave with one aisle on 
the right, separated by four arches, with no transept, 
and only an end recess for the high-altar; four altars 



390 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

were affixed to the bare, white, left wall, and five chapels 
opened from the aisle. The roof was flat and of painted 
wood. The first chapel I found covered upon the walls 
and arched ceiling with indifferent frescoes by Giolfino, 
and bearing over its altar an excellent copy of the 
great canvas of Madonna and Saints by Cavazzola, 
which formerly stood there. The original, like so many 
of the best pictures of the churches, had been removed 
to the city museum. In the second chapel was a good 
specimen of Bonsignori, a Madonna with two saints 
and two baby-angels, of golden tone and rich coloring, 
though little or no expression. Morone's frescoes in 
the fourth chapel were practically destroyed; but the 
fifth glowed like a huge jewel, with solid walls of bright 
paintings by Caroto, Giolfino, and Francesco Morone, 
and other copies of Cavazzola. At the end here was 
the Cappella Pellegrini of Sammicheli's design, a beau- 
tiful domed rotonda faced with marble. In the little 
choir, to the left, hung a very lovely example of Be- 
naglio, a typle panel in close imitation of Mantegna's 
at S. Zeno, of exceeding grace, high finish, and glow- 
ing tone, but lacking the latter's tender simplicity. 
The cloister contained more frescoes of Giolfino, of 
little importance. 

But in the old library of the monastery, entered by 
a separate doorway in the front street, the municipal 
custodian showed me a work of much importance, — 
the truly marvelous frescoes of Francesco Morone 
executed in 1503. They extend all around the square 
wooden-roofed chamber, above the wainscoting and 
beneath an exquisitely painted frieze of convoluted 
wreaths; and consist of two rows of medallions and 
portraits of the most prominent Franciscans, with a 
large scene of life-size figures covering the end wall. 
This last is a most striking and beautiful composi- 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 391 

tion, very freely spaced in a pleasing landscape, — 
the throned Virgin in the centre, surrounded by angels, 
a kneeling bourgeois couple at her feet, Saints Francis 
and Claire standing by her, and the five protomartyrs 
advancing on one side, the four doctors on the other. 
The genuflexing couple are Leonello Sacramoso and 
his wife, to whom we are indebted for this delight. The 
tone is a ravishing light blue, which runs throughout 
the robes and lake and distant mountains in a joyous 
scheme; the figures are superbly modeled, exceedingly 
graceful, and of marked individuality, — which ap- 
plies also to all the portraits, — and the heads are 
distinctly powerful and realistic as to the men, ten- 
derly lovely as to the Madonna. 

My next walks were through the southwestern quar- 
ter, between Corso Cavour and the lower river, com- 
mencing with the Church of S. Maria della Scala on 
my own street, — just south of Via Nuova, — which was 
founded by Can Grande. It is stuccoed white, without 
and within, the exterior being noticeable only for a 
good Renaissance stone doorway, the interior for its 
spacious form, without aisles or transept, and its broad 
ceiling, plastered and painted in designs. Over the side- 
altars stand a Brusasorci, — St. Ursula and her virgins; 
a Giolfino, the descent of the Holy Ghost ; and a charm- 
ing example of Francesco Morone, — a group of three 
saints, with donors, and an Annunciation. Most in- 
teresting was the little chapel to the right of the choir, 
containing sixteen frescoed panels from the life of 
S. Filippo Benissi, in the style of Altichieri, portraying 
every sort of dramatic incident, strongly rendered, 
with dignity, and well-drawn figures. Documents 
recently discovered seem to establish that this was the 
work of Badile, Paolo Veronese's master; but it must 
have been done long before his time. 



392 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Shortly southwestward now, I came at last to the 
Arena, whose mighty dark stone oval fills the eastern 
part of the wide Piazza Bra, Its outer wall has been 
entirely demolished, except for one fragment on the 
northeast, four arches wide and three stories high, 
enough to give an idea of its former external appear- 
ance. The fagade was built of huge roughened granite 
blocks, with pilasters on the piers between the arches, 
and corniced string-courses, — simple, but powerful 
and effective. The second wall — which everywhere 
else is now the outer one, and but two stories high — 
is constructed of the same heavy stones, with inter- 
mediate floors of arched composite. — In the wall 
of a dwelling at the piazza's southeastern corner, I 
saw imbedded fragments of the earlier Roman city 
wall, that had excluded the amphitheatre — having 
doubtless, in fact, been built before it; and near by 
on the south side were two well-preserved Renaissance 
frescoes on the house fagades, of considerable charm. 

Entering the Arena by one of its northern archways 
(it formerly had forty-seven on the exterior, marked 
by Roman numbers on the keystones), I stood in the 
long central oval, surrounded by the endless swelling 
tiers of seats, still kept smooth and unbroken, which, 
vast as they now were, reached to only two thirds 
of their former height. At intervals steps ascended, 
smaller than the large blocks forming the seats, and 
every few yards, above the five-foot parapet, and along 
the higher tiers, were openings for ingress and egress. 
At the northern and southern ends, the oval was par- 
tially broken by the archways giving entrance to 
the centre, topped by balustraded terraces, for the 
seating of princes. Thoughts of the cruel Roman games 
that had drenched this same arena so many times in 
blood, crowded upon me, with visions of the madly 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 393 

shouting populace; — thoughts of the martyrdoms here 
of Saints Fermo and Rustico, and the hundred and 
odd dissenting "Paterani" from Sirmione, burned aHve 
by Mastino I, in 1276; thoughts of the happier tour- 
naments of Renaissance days, the jousts of Antonio 
della Scala, with his besieged "Castle of Love," and 
the bull-fights introduced toward the end of the 
eighteenth century. 

Several emperors and many princes enjoyed those 
bull-fights, including Napoleon the Great, in 1802 
and 1807. Here sat the famous Congress of Sover- 
eigns of 1822, when the ruling princes from all over 
Europe witnessed a memorable night-illumination of 
the amphitheatre. Here the great Ristori made her 
first appearance, — and many another histrionic or 
operatic genius. Finally I thought of those terrible 
days of the Risorgimento, when these walls reechoed 
the groans and sighs of wounded Italian prisoners; and 
of the joyful day of 1866, when Victor Emmanuel 
received here the acclaiming homage of the Veronese. 
Since then the structure has continued to be occa- 
sionally used on festive occasions, with a number of 
remarkably beautiful eflPects. 

The mighty circle, breathing beauty, seems 
The work of genii in immortal dreams. 
So firm the mass, it looks as built to vie 
With Alps' eternal ramparts towering nigh. — 
Glistening and pure, the summer sunbeams fall. 
Softening each sculptured arch and rugged wall. 
We tread the Arena; blood no longer flows. 
But in the sand the pale-eyed violet blows. ^ 

As I gazed over the extensive Piazza Bra on emerg- 
ing, it was a fair sight : the great ruin of the Arena on 
the east, the imposing Palazzo Municipale on the 
south, — in classic style, with its central portico of 

1 Nicholas Mitchell. 



S94 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

eight huge Corinthian columns, — and the "Gran 
Guardia Vecchia," or old city guard-house, to west, of 
powerful, Late-Renaissance lines, its basement rusti- 
cated and arcaded upon heavy piers, its lofty 'piano no- 
bile adorned with coupled Doric half-columns between 
the corniced windows; while on the north stretched the 
long row of bright ca£fes, with their extruding tables, 
and in the centre rose a statue of Victor Emmanuel II, 
before grassy plots filled with trees and flower-beds. 
From the guard-house southward extended a section 
of the tall city wall of the Visconti, made of brick and 
cobblestones in true medieval style, paralleled by the 
wide Via Pallone to the river; on its north side was 
the so-called Portoni, — a former city gate, composed 
of two large arches of stone, fifty feet high, surmounted 
by battlements, with a fianking, battlemented tower 
of brick. Through the gateway I saw the broad Corso 
Vittorio Emanuele extending straightaway southwest 
to the Porto Nuova, between large modern buildings, 
including several prominent palaces of noble fami- 
lies. 

The broad low structure of the Porto Nuova was 
visible in the distance. We occasionally went out there 
by tram car, admired its handsome Renaissance 
design by Sammicheli, and took a delightful walk 
outside the walls, northward, to the Porta S. Zeno, 
where we found a tram to convey us home again. 
The road led under trees along the huge embankment 
without the moat, and past the colossal bastions of 
light stone, with their advanced walls and ports, — 
of which I often thought, that in their miles of great 
blocks enough fine stone had been used to rebuild 
the whole city, discard its brick entirely, and leave 
a palatial wonder. But no; — the medievals would 
economize in their dwellings, and lavish countless 




VERONA. TOMB 



I 




KG AND JULIET. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 395 

riches on their fortifications. These gigantic mounds 
of earth, too, within and without the fosse, which 
stretched Brobdingnagian around the whole vast cir- 
cuit, and must have required the labor of an innumer- 
able host, for many years, — imagine embankments 
fifty feet high and a hundred and fifty wide, made 
without the aid of steam ; — on them had been 
expended enough work to build another large city. 
The inner bank, and the enormous moat, are also 
faced with mighty granite blocks, mile after mile. 
Truly, these incredible walls of earth and stone are 
one of the marvels of the world. The view all the way 
was uncommonly lovely, with the sun upon our backs, 
displaying the wide wooded plain with its sparkling 
white farmhouses and villages, the towering moun- 
tains to west and north, with their dark precipitous 
flanks, the glittering snow-peaks in the rear, and the 
penetrating gorge of the Adige. — Outside the Porta 
Nuova, also, lies the subsidiary railroad station of 
that name, recently finished, and coming into much 
use. 

Just to the right of the Portoni stands the Teatro 
Filarmonico, with a handsome Renaissance fagade, 
and a large portico of Ionic columns upon its south 
side; before this portico extends a court, inclosed by 
Renaissance arcades of dainty, fluted, Doric columns, 
and containing architectural fragments, altars, tab- 
lets, sculptures, inscriptions, and other relics of Roman 
days, — all forming the Museo Lapidario, founded by 
Scipione Maffei. On stepping through the Portoni, one 
sees the old moat of the Visconti wall, still flowing 
darkly between the back walls of houses. One day 
I followed the wall southward to the river, along Via 
Pallone, striking the stream at the lowest city bridge, 
Ponte Aleardi; and here to the right, just without 



396 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the Visconti moat, in the former, abandoned grounds 
and cemetery of the Capuchin monastery, next the 
Adige, I found the reputed tomb of Romeo and 
Juliet, guarded by a municipal custodian. 

In a fragment of the old monastery cloisters, charm- 
ingly arcaded upon two sides with slim marble shafts 
and brick arches, rising from parapets, lies an uncov- 
ered sarcophagus of red marble, filled to overflowing 
with the visiting-cards of faithful believers, — believers 
in spite of all evidence. The custode says gravely that 
the lovers were buried together in this coffin, in the 
Capuchin cemetery close at hand. Yet there are sacri- 
legious persons who state that the sarcophagus was 
not long ago a washing-trough; further, that neither 
Romeo nor Juliet ever existed in the flesh, and con- 
sequently they never were buried. Let one believe as 
he listeth ; — at any rate, this tomb is a pretty spot, 
framed by its little garden on each side, with shady 
trees, roses, aloes, climbing vines, and other shrubs 
and flowers; and the custode claims to prove his story 
by pointing out the remains of the monument which 
formerly covered the sarcophagus, — some columns, 
and broken bits of entablature, scattered about the 
grass. 

Lovers! Ye have not loved in vain: the hearts 

Of millions throb around ye. This lone tomb 

One greater than Mantua's prophet eye foresaw 

In her own child or Rome's, hath hallowed; 

And the last sod or stone a pilgrim knee 

Shall press (Love swears it, and swears it true) is here.^ 

There now remained to visit on the western bank 
only the great Church of S. Fermo, at the end of the 
Ponte delle Navi. On my way to it one afternoon, I 
stopped to examine with interest the so-called Arco 
Leoni, — the remains of a Roman city gate, built into 

^ Walter Savage Landor. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 397 

the side wall of a house on the east side of the Via 
Leoni, leading from Piazza Erbe to the bridge; they 
consisted of some half-visible columns and entabla- 
ture, of rich sculpturing, — which probably covered 
what was then, as now, the chief entrance to the an- 
cient city. The southern Roman wall, therefore, ran 
from the Adige here, — just north of the Ponte delle 
Navi, excluding the latter, — westward to meet the 
western wall at a right angle near the Arena. 

But on that same street, close to Piazza Erbe, I had 
first passed a building associated with what has just 
been related, — the house of the Capelletti; for they 
were real people, whatever the doubt may be con- 
cerning their poet-created daughter; and legend has 
always given this dwelling as their abode. It is a nar- 
row, five-storied structure of brick, on the east side of 
the confined way, pierced by a large archway in the 
ground story and by four rounded windows in each 
of the others, — its only balcony hanging on heavy 
corbels at the fourth floor. "Heavens!" I thought 
involuntarily, "what a climb poor Romeo had!" — 
The height of it was as disenchanting as were the dirty 
vans and refuse of the stable-yard seen through the 
archway. One must shut his eyes to modern meta- 
morphoses : — 

But chief we seem to hear at evening hour 
The sigh of Juliet in her starlit bower. 
Follow her form slow gliding through the gloom. 
And drop a tear upon her mouldered tomb.^ 

The face of S. Fermo is toward the west, its north 
side upon the street which is the westward continua- 
tion of Ponte delle Navi; so that its fine proportions 
are clearly visible. From the bridge, or the street, 
one sees a noble apse, a wide transept, a tall campanile 

1 Nicholas Mitchell. 



398 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

rising from their angle to a spire with corner pinnacles, 
and, on turning the transept, a beautiful old Gothic 
porch covering the side entrance, — a canopy of 
pointed arches, above a recessed pointed doorway, 
approached by fourteen steps. The choir and transept 
are both of plain red brick, except for curious unordered 
patches of light stone; the nave's side is also of brick, 
but with a deep marble basement, and double Gothic 
windows with marble mullions; its wide brick Gothic 
frieze continues around the apse. The fagade, looking 
upon an open bay from the street, has a round-arched, 
deeply recessed portal approached hy spreading steps, 
and four lancet windows overhead, — being marbled 
to the top of the entitance, and of brick and marble in 
alternate courses above that. Altogether it is a very 
lovely and picturesque example of Lombard Gothic, 
charming by its very oddities ; it was constructed early 
in the trecento, — during "the period of vital Chris- 
tianity, and of the development of the laws of chivalry 
and forms.of imagination, which are founded on Chris- 
tianity," ^ — and which are nowhere better shown. 

On entering, by the customary side portal, I found 
myself in a long broad nave, without aisles or columns, 
with a larch- wood roof like the Eremetani; at the end 
were three chapels, with the high-altar in the centre, 
faced by a semicircular screen of creamy marble ex- 
tending into the nave; and over the side wall-spaces 
not covered by altars or monuments, over the end wall 
above the three chapels, was a world of old frescoing, in 
every hue and state of decay, glowing like a vast cloud- 
land of antique saints and angels. A lovely Annuncia- 
tion on the left wall, showing the Virgin's bedchamber 
within a quaint Gothic dwelling, is the only other relic 
of Pisanello's painting in Verona; the rest of them — 

^ Ruskin, Verona, and Other Lectures. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 399 

Madonnas, Crucifixions, groups of saints, martyrdoms 
— are by Martini, Stefano da Zevio, and other early 
Veronese masters, — in delightful soft old tints, ex- 
hibiting dignity and deep feeling. The first chapel to 
the left, some way down, holds Caroto's beautiful 
pala of the Madonna and St. Anne in glory, with saints 
below, — forms wondrously moulded, of exceeding 
grace and softness, with a striking maternal joy and 
pride in the fair face of the Virgin. Next this opens 
a little room containing Riccio's brilliant, luxurious, 
marble monument to Girolamo della Torre, with 
bronze plates of reliefs, and supporting sphinxes, 
that are but copies of the originals taken to Paris, 
but possessing still the original charming frieze 
around the marble base, and its exquisitely sculptured 
columns. 

There are further a canvas of Liberale, two of Tor- 
bido, examples of Farinato and Brusasorci, a fine, 
Gothic, trecento pulpit, and a small chapel in the right 
transept containing tombs of titled descendants of 
Dante. But the greatest interest of all lies in the ex- 
tensive crypt, — the remains of a very early church 
over which the later one was erected. It is reached 
by a stairway, through the sacristy; and its various 
kinds of early columns and bits of frescoing, endowed 
with intense significance for the antiquarian, date as far 
back in some instances as the latter part of the eighth 
century. 

Across the bridge from S. Fermo, and just to the 
right on the broad tree-lined quay, facing the river, 
stands the Palazzo Pompei containing the city's art 
collections. Its two-storied stone facade is of most 
attractive Renaissance lines, — a rusticated base- 
ment, and 'piano nohile of Doric half-columns support- 
ing a Doric frieze and cornice, with windows capped 



400 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

by masks. But leaving its contents to the last, I 
passed it by one morning on my way to visit the rest 
of the eastern quarter, — to inspect again the fine 
old churches scattered through its silent streets. First 
in modern interest, however, is the great cemetery 
to the south, just without the fortifications, reached 
from the eastern end of Ponte Aleardi by a splendid 
avenue of tall trees. 

Entirely surrounding it in the Italian style is a vast 
square structure, with a classic portico on its western 
front; high colonnades run around its inner sides, 
adorned with countless tombs, in and against the walls. 
These are decorated with many modern sculptures, 
in the recent style addicted to realism and minute 
details, — such as the family weeping over their dead. 
The huge, rectangular grass plot in the centre is one 
mass of graves, headstones, flat stones, and monu- 
ments, with shrubs and flowers, but no trees; and the 
graves are kept always fresh with flowers as none but 
Italians do. One time we were present on the annual 
"Day of the Dead," when the whole city seemed to 
have turned its steps that way, clad in sad clothes and 
burdened with wreaths and blossoms; it was a wonder- 
ful sight to see this mourning, unanimous multitude, 
depositing their tributes of undying affection, and 
praying over their departed. 

The first church to which I went was S. Paolo di 
Campo Marzo, to the right on Via Venti Settembre, 
but a few rods from the bridge. It has a simple, stuc- 
coed, Renaissance fagade, with a stone tower, and a 
simple nave without aisles or columns ; over a side altar 
is one of Girolamo dai Libri's delightful pictures of 
the Madonna and Saints, beautiful beyond expression; 
in a chapel off the right transept, a similar canvas by 
Paolo Veronese, of considerable grace, — also some 



VERONA LA MARMOEINA 401 

injured frescoes by him, and a panel by Bonsignori; 
in the sacristy, a handsome Caroto, — the Madonna 
with Saints Peter and Paul, of which the Madonna 
possesses a grand, imperial form, of exceeding beauty, 
superbly drawn and moulded. There are, further, some 
of the works of Farinato. 

Next I wandered to Veronetta's chief church, SS. 
Nazzaro e Celso, farther to the east at the foot of the 
heights, on the long street diverging from Via Venti 
Settembre near the gate, and running fairly straight 
to Ponte di Pietra. The first S. Nazzaro was a grotto 
in the face of the hill, where the earliest Christians 
worshiped in troublous times; I found it behind a 
machine factory on the right of the present edifice, — 
several connected chambers hewn in the cliff, with 
lingering fragments of quaint frescoes of that remote 
period, probably the fifth century. The holy place 
has been desecrated, and the paintings almost en- 
tirely destroyed by the machinists who ply their trade 
there in an adjunct to the main factory. I am sur- 
prised that the city, usually so alert, has not long 
ago adopted preservative measures. 

The present church was first built in the eleventh 
century, and then restored in the sixteenth, when its 
five aisles were made into three. Before it extends a 
wide inclosed court, having a curious decadent Renais- 
sance gateway, upheld by four Doric columns ap- 
parently tied with stone mourning-cloths, and having 
a frieze of "papal tiaras. The brick, gabled f agade, with 
lean-to aisles, has a Gothic marble doorway, two long 
windows, and a very pretty, sculptured rose-window. 
The interior is usually closed, and I remember I had a 
long hunt through the neighborhood to find an assistant 
sacristan with a key to the side door. Once entered, I 
saw a rather low, groined nave, separated by stucco 



402 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

pillars and round arches from still lower aisles; the 
latter with pointed vaultings, and side altars directly 
against their walls; the choir deeply recessed behind 
a Gothic triumphal arch, with no flanking chapels. 
Over the side altars were paintings by Farinato and 
Brusasorci, and a true example of Badile, a charming 
Madonna and Saints, of rich tone and good execution. 
The chief interest lay in the Capella S. Biagio, off 
the left transept, — one of Verona's foremost artistic 
shrines. It was heavily frescoed by Falconetto, Cavaz- 
zola, and Montagna; the latter's work being especially 
strong and dramatic,^ Cavazzola's especially lovely. 
The 'pala was a glorious Bonsignori, with exquisite 
predelle by Girolamo dai Libri, — perfect gems of 
painting; and upon the left wall hung an entrancing 
Madonna and Saints by Moretto. 

The walls of the choir held large scenes from the 
lives of Saints Nazzaro and Celso, by Farinato, of 
much dramatic interest; the sacristy contained two 
excellent" canvases of Montagna, and a curious trip- 
tych of Benaglio; with two more Montagnas — strong, 
clear works — on its outer wall. 

My next object was of a very different nature, — a 
pleasant change from churches. About halfway up 
the street already mentioned stands the large Palazzo 
Giusti, with a long, Renaissance, stuccoed f agade, and 
in the rear lie its celebrated gardens, extending well up 
the hillside. A central archway admitted me to the 
courtyard, backed by an iron grille; and through an 
opened gate in the latter the portiere made me free of 
the grounds. A magnificent sight now rose before me, 
— the stateliest avenue that could be imagined, lined 

^ These frescoes, together with the canvases in the sacristy, give one 
really a better conception of the full powers of Bart. Montagna than his 
works in his native city, Vicenza. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 403 

by two rows of tall black cypresses, leading straight- 
away across the level and grandly up the steep slope, 
to a balustraded stone terrace perched far aloft, and 
to another line of cypresses extended at right angles 
along the height, backed by a graceful wood. It had 
much of the impressive loveliness of the Villa d' Este. 
To right and left upon the restricted level stretched 
inviting swards, glowing flower-beds, banks of shrub- 
bery, fountains, and water-basins; climbing vines had 
verdurously beautified the walls of palace and enceint- 
ure; an artist was painting a picturesque building on 
the left, quite overgrown with creepers. 

I ascended the avenue, and wandered up the wooded 
hillside by winding, shady paths, which led me at last 
to the open terrace; thence extended an enchanting 
prospect, — the lofty cypresses and seductive gardens, 
the ivy-clad palace, the far-sweeping ocean of tiled 
roofs with soaring towers, the distant, haze-covered 
plain, and the imposing mountains looming to the 
north. 

Verona, thy tall gardens stand erect. 
Beckoning me upward. Let me rest awhile 
Where the birds whistle hidden in the boughs.^ 

And rest I did, lulled to a dreamy state by the whis- 
perings of the leaves, gazing visionary over the storied 
scene before me. 

It was still another day, therefore, when I advanced 
to finish Veronetta's sights, crossing the Adige by the 
modern iron Ponte Umberto, opposite the Giusti gar- 
dens. This course brought me first to the Church of 
S. Tommaso Cantuariense, or St. Thomas of Canter- 
bury, just beyond the bridge, situated upon what was 
formerly an island in the river; but the eastern arm 

* Walter Savage Landor. 



404 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

has been filled up, forming now the wide street known 
as "Interrato dell' Acqua Morta," which bends from 
quay to quay in a long curve. The church has a fine, 
regular, Gothic fagade of brick, with a recessed door- 
way, and one rose- and two long windows of geomet- 
rical tracery. The street on its left side is illuminated 
by three house fronts with well-preserved frescoes, one 
or two of them in Caroto's bright style, and one a fair 
copy of Leonardo's Last Supper. 

Entering, I found a strange, lofty, white-stuccoed 
interior, adorned with four varied altars on each side, 
having no transept, and three chapels in the end wall, 
with the high-altar in the middle one. Here lay the 
great Sammicheli, under his bust in the right wall; 
near it were two splendid paintings, a Liberale and a 
Girolamo dai Libri, and in the little sacristy I saw the 
beautiful, moving picture by Garofalo, — a Madonna 
with the infants Jesus and John, — which has been 
made so familiar to all the world by countless repro- 
ductions.* Behind the high-altar hung a shapely 
Caroto, and over the left altars stood two of those 
numberless lovely pictures of Madonna and Child by 
unknown masters of the Veronese school. 

I then proceeded to my last great church, S. Maria 
in Organo, which stands a little north of Palazzo 
Giusti, backing upon its street from the west, and 
entered from the said Acqua Morta. Close by is the 
Via Seminaria, with the Episcopal College, a large 
seminary, a huge monastery made into a barrack, a 
fine palace or two, and some dainty, alluring, Renais- 
sance balconies. S. Maria, founded as far back as the 
seventh century, but now a structure of the twelfth, 
though not a large church, is one of Verona's principal 
treasure-houses. Behind the usual Veronese courtyard 
it raises a droll, unfinished, low fagade, marble-faced 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 405 

to the height of the Renaissance portal and ground- 
windows, — which are separated by Corinthian half- 
columns, — and of unadorned red brick and white 
stone in the flat gable. 

The interior is still more curious: a short, low, 
round-arched nave, very dark, with wide-open aisles 
separated by four slight columns on each side; a tran- 
sept elevated by six steps, with a chapel at each end 
and one on each side of the choir; the vaultings all 
painted with designs and arabesques; the walls above 
the low side arches covered with Old Testament scenes 
by Francesco Morone. This remarkable wealth of 
diversified color, in designs, frescoed pictures, and 
glowing canvases everywhere the eye turns, makes 
a spectacle of Oriental splendor. Morone's 'pala in the 
third altar recess to the left is better preserved, more 
finished, and more beautiful than his frescoes, — being 
an utterly fascinating group of Madonna and Saints, 
of unsurpassable richness. Savoldo's gorgeous pala 
next it is almost equally entrancing; making a pair of 
canvases that can never be forgotten. The walnut 
choir-seats before the high-altar are exceptionally 
adorned, having painted landscapes on their backs by 
Cavazzola and Brusasorci ; the latter has three power- 
ful frescoes in and above the chapel to the left of the 
choir; and the chapel to the right contains three real- 
istic tableaux by Giolfino. 

At the end of the right transept a stranger enters, — 
the brilliant Guercino of Bologna, with two canvases 
amongst the most striking in Verona, — two jewels 
of a wondrous, glittering finish, superbly modeled and 
true to life, yet lovely beyond all words; one represents 
S. Francesca Romana with an angel, — the other, the 
same figures, with the addition of the saint's brother 
and several companions and guards. A third Guer- 



406 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

cino, once also here but now in Rome, has been 
replaced by a copy. Near these, aloft, are three 
frescoed figures, of the Archangels with Tobias, by 
Cavazzola. 

The finest of all the treasures, however, lie in the 
retro-choir and the adjacent sacristy, — gems of art 
to which I have many a time returned in joy. Amidst 
the splendid, carved choir-stalls stands a marvelous 
candelabrum of ebony and walnut, sculptured with 
richest details by the genius of Fra Giovanni da Ver- 
ona, who was a member here of the monastic brother- 
hood of Monte Oliveto, to whom the church formerly 
belonged; and the sacristy has been turned by him 
into a veritable temple of wood-carving and tarsia. 
All around it stretches a high oaken pailfeling of inde- 
scribably delicate sculpturing, — columns, cornice, 
arches, frieze, and entablature, all radiant with an 
endless variety of minutest designs and arabesques; 
and between the columns are the paneled backs of 
seats, more remarkable still, with tarsia of incred- 
ible deceptiveness and fertile fancy, — not merely 
the usual objects of everyday life, but scenes with 
the perspective and atmosphere of painting, show- 
ing streets, palaces, castles, towns, and landscapes. 
Though not advancing to the depiction of human 
life, attained by the Bergamasque masters alone, in 
their own class these stand at the head. One inter- 
esting scene depicts in its background the ruinous 
Castle of Theodoric, as it looked about 1500. 

Over the paneling, next the ceiling, extends a series 
of frescoed portraits of the monks of Oliveto, by 
Morone, of speaking lifelikeness and strongest indi- 
viduality; including Fra Giovanni himself, with his 
hair whitened by his task of many years. Most of the 
others are popes, kings, princes, doges, and great men 




VEROXA. VIEW IN THE GIUSTI GARDENS. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 407 

of the world; and the sacristan indicates two of them 
who were ex-monarchs of Britain in the eighth cen- 
tury. On the ceiling is, further, a half-figure of the 
Saviour, surrounded by a circle of putti-heads; and in 
one corner hangs a very lovely Madonna and Saints, 
by Girolamo dai Libri, — or, as Mr. Berenson thinks, 
by Mocetto of Venice.^ 

From S. Maria I repaired to the little, ancient 
Church of S. Giovanni in Valle, shortly to the north 
upon the slope of the hill, — a quaint edifice dating 
from the fifth century, and practically unchanged from 
Romanesque days. Its small fagade is distinguished 
by naught but a fresco of Stefano da Zevio over the 
doorway, bright and pleasing; its narrow wooden- 
roofed nave — with alternate pillars of white stone 
and columns of Verona marble, having diverse, queer, 
old capitals — ends in a choir raised above seven 
central steps, with side steps descending to the crypt. 
The walls above the low side arches, once covered 
with frescoes, are now white and bare, with a few 
tiny Romanesque windows; but a graceful picture 
by Bertolini, and a fresco of Stefano da Zevio, dec- 
orate the right aisle. In the small crypt, upheld by 
six ancient marble columns and two strange, taper- 
ing pillars, I found two early Christian sarcophagi, 
covered with reliefs of extraordinary realism and dig- 
nity; and in the sacristy, several fairly good Renais- 
sance paintings. In the yard on the right was visible 
a fragment of the long-demolished cloisters, — a colon- 
nade, with charming little coupled columns, of great 
antiquity. 

* It is certainly much in the style of the beautiful canvas of Mocetto 
in the Vicenza gallery, and would raise still higher the fame of that re- 
tiring pupil of Bellini. On the other hand, how account for the peculiar 
lemon tree, Girolamo's emblem ? 



408 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

From here I proceeded to the ruined Roman theatre, 
near the Ponte di Pietra, stopping a moment on the 
way to inspect the Gothic, brick facade of the little 
Church of S. Chiara, with its marble portal and pretty 
windows, and its quaint^ medieval relief of a giant Ma- 
donna protecting devotees with her cloak. SS. Siro e 
Libera, another very early church, built high upon one 
side of the theatre, had been closed and was to be taken 
down. This clearing-away, and much other recent ex- 
cavation, had laid bare most of the Roman remains, 
as I had observed them from the hilltop; it was still 
more interesting to walk about the pavement of the 
pit, through the unroofed antechambers, over the frag- 
ments of the marbled stage, and, climbing the lofty 
seats, left here and there in broken patches, to call up 
visions of the magnificent spectacles that once had 
been enacted there below. Even marine spectacles 
had had their place, on seas of real water, pumped 
from the adjacent river. How far they were ahead of 
our little njodern shows ! 

At last, one day, I bent my steps to the city museum, 
and began a slow investigation of its countless trea- 
sures. It has a marvelous collection of paintings, 
especially for so small a city, — nineteen rooms filled 
to overflowing, — which must certainly be ranked 
next to the municipal galleries of Florence, Venice, 
and Milan; and above all, here alone can one obtain a 
comprehensive idea of the glorious art of Verona. The 
entrance hall opens directly upon a square court, 
packed with pieces of ancient sculpture and architect- 
ure; in the many rooms extending to the rear of it, I 
inspected the collections of Roman and Etruscan 

^ By this I mean, executed with exceptional quaintess ; for of course 
it was customary in the trecento thus to depict the Madonna, personify- 
ing the Church. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 409 

coins, vases, bronzes, and reliefs, of prehistoric tombs 
and antiquities, of fossils and natural history speci- 
mens, of medieval statuary, and other sculptures. 
On the staircase, to the left of the entrance hall, began 
the overflowing paintings; — seven framed frescoes of 
Giolfino, representing the arts and sciences, and three 
works of Paolo Veronese, greeting me as I climbed to 
the upper floor. I emerged at its northern end, with 
the first half-dozen rooms of the series stretching be- 
fore me southward along the fagade; and these con- 
tained the chief of the treasures. The stairway and 
landing being numbered i, and the office to its right 
— with some unimportant pictures — numbered ii, 
therefore with the large room iii, directly before me, 
the collection proper began. 

Space forbids more than the slightest summary. 
This room iii contained the earlier Veronese works, 
of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, in which the 
gallery is not very rich, — Pisanello and his pupils, 
and some unknown masters; all quaint, pietistic works, 
with slim, graceful figures, in the already partly de- 
veloped, rich, Veronese coloring. Room iv was chiefly 
Liberale's, — a delightful aggregation of pictures, with 
figures possessing his peculiar, fine, light skin, and 
fleecy, golden hair, of his nameless, peculiar charm, 
that gives such spiritual beauty to the rough-hewn 
faces. Room v was mainly Girolamo's, and therefore 
more aglow with unadulterated, serene beauty than 
any other; — exquisite groups of heavenly forms, 
gathered around the Madonna, under his emblem of 
the lemon tree. But here also stood Caroto's famous 
group of the three Archangels with Tobias, — nearly 
life-size figures, of a startling, unearthly loveliness and 
power, unlike any others ever painted. Room vi, at 
the end, belonged to Morone and Cavazzola, contain- 



410 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ing the latter's wonderful set of masterpieces depicting 
the Passion, in whose unutterably dazzling brilliancy 
of hue the Verona coloring found its meridian. 

Of the rear chambers, room ix contained Torbido's 
bewitching Tobias and the Angel, a splendid Baptism 
of Christ by Paolo Veronese, and some other fine mis- 
cellaneous pieces; room xiv, a gracious, life-size fresco 
by Fr. Morone; room xvii, some specimens of other 
schools, including an excellent, characteristic Perugino, 
a resplendent La Francia, and a captivating panel of 
the Magi, in an enchanting landscape (number 95) 
by Eusebio di S. Giorgio, Perugino's gifted disciple. 
Room XIX, finally, was a superb collection from other 
schools, numerous and valuable; among them I espe- 
cially enjoyed a very curious but characteristic Carlo 
Crivelli, two golden, serene Cimas, Mantegna's Holy 
Family with an Angel, — of remarkable modeling and 
lif elikeness, — Palma Vecchio's glorious Magi, Boni- 
fazio's striking Last Supper, Moretto's extraordinary 
Head of Christ, Lanzani's beautiful Madonna with 
infants, Mansueti's Madonna and St. Jerome, in an 
inspiring landscape, and two of Gian Bellini's lovely, 
dreamy Madonnas. There were also three rooms filled 
with modern paintings, whose pettiness would give a 
shock to any soul, after visiting the lofty spheres of 
the grandeur and genius of old. 

I have already spoken of the castles lying about 
Verona, which belonged mostly to the Scaligers in 
their day. The principal ones still standing, in more or 
less ruinous condition, are nine in number, — five 
upon the west of the Adige, four upon the east; and 
no visit to Verona is complete without some knowledge 
of them. Those to the east are reached by carriage 
or steam tramway from the Porta Vescovo, along the 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 411 

base of the hills, parallel with the railway. In two 
miles one arrives at the village of San Michele, birth- 
place of the great architect; not very far from which 
is the picturesque castle of Montorio, perched upon a 
height with three great towers, commanding a beau- 
tiful view of the village-dotted landscape, and the 
battlemented city wall of Verona crowning the west- 
ern ridges. It is closed to the public; but on one 
occasion two ladies of our party succeeded in penetrat- 
ing, only to find an empty shell. Originally erected 
in Roman times, it was still intact when used by the 
Scaligers. 

But the chief Scala castle, and perhaps the most in- 
teresting of North Italy, is at Soave, — already 
mentioned as seen from the passing train. There the 
gay Court often betook itself for rest; there the princes 
hunted and hawked, and Dante passed lazy summer 
days with Can Grande. The tram above mentioned 
carried me one day to Soave village, which I found sur- 
rounded by a picturesque wall and moat, with a pon- 
derous, well-preserved, battlemented gateway, whose 
open arch framed a charming vista of the main street, 
with its stuccoed, sun-beaten buildings. At its north- 
ern end I came to the large, classic fagade of the par- 
ish-church, whose spacious basilica-interior proved to 
contain a magnificent canvas of Dom. Morone, in 
the choir, — a Madonna and Saints of resplendent 
coloring. Opposite, and at the street's adjacent fork- 
ing, rose two fine old Gothic palaces, with battle- 
ments, remains of frescoes, and an arcaded loggia 
with a delightful, Gothic, marble stairway. Here, in 
a pharmacy I obtained the requisite permesso ; and 
climbed the steep hillside on the east, to the towered 
castle. 

It is the only one of them all which has been re- 



412 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

stored, — and that accurately, in its medieval style. 
Its lofty, well-conditioned walls once formed a link 
in those of the town, which still creep up the slope 
on each hand; and its main entrance was on the outer, 
eastern side, over the town moat by a drawbridge, — 
through a guard-tower, outer court, and inner, port- 
cullised gateway. So I entered, as did the Scaligers, 

— to avoid passing through the town, — and stood 
in the large, rectangular, main courtyard, with the 
battlements on three sides and the inner court on the 
left. Traversing a final wall, I reached that inner 
courtyard, on the southern and highest point of the 
hilltop, — a semicircular inclosure, that formerly 
held all the residential buildings of the princes. Of 
those there now remained but a two-storied stone 
structure in the west corner, and the great keep in the 
middle of the curving southern wall, — this of brick, 
though the fortifications were mostly of stone. In 
the ground-floor of the building I saw the long guard- 
room, with, the guards' rude beds, tables, stands of 
arms, etc., all restored as in the days of Can Grande; 
up the picturesque outer stairway, overhung by a very 
lovely iron lantern, I found five interesting rooms, also 
accurately remodeled in decorations and furnishings, 

— two drawing-rooms, a bedchamber, a dining-room 
and a cabinet. 

Here were tables, chairs, drawers, etc., all quaintly 
carved in trecento fashion, lamps and stands of decorat- 
ive wrought iron, a huge canopied bed, and a dining- 
table carefully set with crudely figured majolica ware, 
half -opaque blue glassware in medieval goblets and de- 
canters, large earthen pitchers for wine, and curiously 
shaped forks and spoons, — just then coming into 
princely use; also arms and armor, and walls frescoed 
in trecento manner, including one original figure of that 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 413 

period; — in a word, every furnishing and disposition 
to give a picture of that far-off life as exact as if one 
were living it here and now. Very crude, we should 
call it, — the picturesqueness soon vanishing before 
an acquaintance with its discomforts and lack of re- 
finements. Yet to Can Grande and his contemporaries 
it seemed an age of wondrous luxury; and so it was, 
compared with the life of their grandfathers, but one 
century previous. 

"In those times, says a writer about the year 1300, 
speaking of the age of Frederick II (1200-1250), the 
manners of the Italians were rude. A man and his 
wife ate off the same plate. There were no wooden- 
handled knives, nor more than one or two drinking- 
cups in a house. Candles of wax or tallow were un- 
known; a servant held a torch during supper. The 
clothes of men were of leather, unlined; scarcely any 
gold or silver was seen on their dress. ... A small 
stock of corn seemed riches. . ', . The pride of man 
was to be well provided with arms and horses; that 
of the nobility, to have lofty towers, of which all 
the cities of Italy were full. But now, frugality has 
been changed for sumptuousness; everything exquis- 
ite is sought after in dress, — gold, silver, pearls, 
silks, and rich furs. Foreign wines and rich meats are 
required." ^ Such was the alteration in one hundred 
years, — to the days of Dante and Giotto, shown in 
this castle. 

Remains of the earlier periods were visible in lance- 
heads, truncheons, other implements, and coins, found 
on the premises; and more stirring still, were Roman 
coins, lost by the Roman occupants sixteen centuries 
ago, and now brought again to the light. An upper 
door let me out upon the adjacent battlements in the 

^ Hallam, Middle Ages, vol. ii, part 2, chap. ix. 



414 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

rear, whose promenade looked down the steep hill- 
side, rich with vine and olive, guarded by the descend- 
ing city wall with its crumbling towers, to the town 
far below, shining cheerfully in the green fields, — 
the wooded, dark foothills and Alps to the north, and 
the limitless plain upon the south. I climbed the 
mighty, hollow keep to its lofty summit, whence the 
view was still more extensive; at its bottom yet re- 
mained the horrible pit, where they once tossed the 
bodies of the condemned. 

In the centre of the inner courtyard, lingered the 
ancient, worn well-head, upon which Dante must 
often have leaned or sat, while pacing the green be- 
tween the palatial buildings, now gone. 

At Can La Grande's court, no doubt, 
Due reverence did his steps attend; 
The ushers on his path would bend 
At ingoing as at going out.^ 

The buildings for the lodging of the servants, men- 
at-arms, ^nd horses, doubtless encircled the outer 
courtyard; but they have all disappeared. I crossed it 
again, and departed by another gate on the north side, 
under an aucient fresco of the Madonna. 

Thence, by carriage to Caldiero and up the Illasi 
Valley, I journeyed to the village and castle of that 
name, enjoying a view of the latter upon its hilltop 
for an hour before my arrival. The Scaligers obtained 
it from Pope Nicholas V, and upon their destruc- 
tion it passed to the Conti Pompei of Verona, whose 
last representative died in 1885, leaving his city pal- 
ace to the Signoria for the museum. Upon one occa- 
sion, when tearing down an old wall of the castle, 
he found the chained skeleton of an ancestress, the 

* Rossetti, Dante at Verona. 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 415 

Countess Ginevra, who had been punished for infidel- 
ity by her husband long ago, in a manner similar to 
the "White Lady" of Colalto. At the piazza of Illasi 
I saw a fine, classic Municipio, and near it the hand- 
some villa and gardens of the Marchese Carlotti. 
The castle, though nearly as picturesque from below, 
in its great tower, massive stone body and ruinous 
walls, is not as interesting as Soave, — being neither 
as old, nor kept in the medieval state. It consists of 
a projecting keep, on the north side, and an adjacent 
square building of three to four stories, both battle- 
mented, and surrounded by the broken remains of the 
enceinture. 

All around it on the hillsides lies the beautiful 
Pompei estate, dense with olive groves and vineyards, 
white-spotted with excellent tenants' dwellings; and 
the prospect over them of the rich valley with its 
many villages is enchanting. The ascent from the 
town is a full two miles; and let no one who makes it 
omit first to obtain in the piazza a permit to visit the 
castle, or he will not be admitted. After a small siesta 
at a horrible country inn, where one basin-full of 
water per chamber was supposed to be suflicient for 
the day, I returned to Verona at eventide by the steam 
tramway, making connection at Caldiero. 

In the same valley of Illasi, farther north, lie the re- 
mains of Tregnano castle, — consisting of a huge keep 
and a crumbling outer wall with small towers. Of the 
castles on the west bank Sirmione, situated on the 
peninsula of that name at the southern shore of Lake 
Garda, is the most interesting after Soave. It is a 
beautiful spot, occupied by large Roman villas in an- 
cient times. The great fortress is a glowering, fanciful 
mass of tall irregular towers and forked battlements, 
with two entrances, and several courts and inner walls. 



416 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

all surrounded by mighty, towered, outer walls. Of all 
the castles of this region, it is the most famed in song 
and story. 

The Scala castles of Villafranca, Nogarole, and Va- 
leggio lie near together southwest of Verona upon the 
plain. I went by train to the first-named, erected in 
1202 by the Veronese republic as a fortress against 
the Mantuans; from it Mastino II and Can Grande II 
constructed the vast wall known as the "Serraglio" 
for miles across the level, with moats and towers for 
sentinels, to protect their territory from Mantuan as- 
saults. I found the castle to be a large ruined quadri- 
lateral at the south of Villafranca village, its walls 
of brick and cobblestones, three to five feet thick, 
surrounded by a slimy moat, with square towers at 
the corners, and a formidable keep and two guard- 
towers beside the entrance in the northern side. 
Nothing remains of the other buildings save a small 
structure over the ingress, still inhabited; gardens 
flourish everywhere within, and the peasants have 
made a road through the middle. This was the fortress 
which Ezzelino besieged in 1233, in which the people 
of Mantua with their families took refuge in 1404 from 
the cruelties of Galeazzo Gonzaga, and from which 
they repulsed his fierce attacks. Though often so at- 
tacked during the centuries, it never fell. In the vil- 
lage, in 1859, was signed the peace between France 
and Austria, ceding J^ombardy to Italy. 

Five miles to the west sits Valeggio, another Scala 
fortress, guarding the Mincio; halfway to it rises a 
monumental column marking the battlefield of Cus- 
tozza, where the Italians were twice so bitterly de- 
feated; — but close at hand also, seen from Villa- 
franca's keep, rise the towers marking the fields of 
the great victories of S. Martino and Solferino. This 



VERONA LA MARMORINA 417 

is sacred ground, watered with the blood of the mar- 
tyrs for Freedom, decorated with imposing memorials, 
and sought by hosts of free Italians year after year, 
in a solemn, patriotic pilgrimage. 

Italia! by the passion of thy pain 

That bent and rent thy chain; 

Italia! by the breaking of the bands. 

The shaking of the lands; 

Beloved, O men's mother, O men's queen, — 

Arise, appear, be seen! ^ 

^ Swinburne, A Song of Italy. 
I 



CHAPTER XI 

BEESCIA THE BRAVE 

Brescia la forte, Brescia la ferrea, 

Brescia lionessa d' Italia. —Dante. 

noblest Brescia, scarred from foot to head. 

And breast-deep in the dead, ■• 

Praise him^ from all the glories of thy graves. 

That yellow Mella laves 

With gentle and golden water, whose fair flood 

Ran wider with thy blood. 

— Swinburne. 

Brescia the brave, the iron-hearted, — Brescia the 
lioness of Italy ! Even as far back as Dante's time she 
was so known, — foremost in every danger, leader in 
every struggle against oppression. And to what a glori- 
ous climax came that lofty spirit, that heart of steel, in 
the heaving, storm-tossed time of the Risorgimento, 
— when never a day passed without some fresh hero, 
some new martyr, issuing from her impassioned people 
to battle for liberty, — when against all odds, all pos- 
sibilities, she struggled desperately on, till the streets 
lay piled "breast deep in the dead" ! A century before 
that, Baretti had mistaken her fieriness for bragga- 
docio; and his words reveal in her the same defiant 
valor: "The people of Brescia made it formerly a 
point of honor to be great bullies; and I remember 
the time myself when it was dangerous to have any 
dealings with them, as they were much inclined to 
quarrel merely for a whim, and would presently chal- 
lenge one to fight with pistol or blunderbuss." ^ 

1 Garibaldi. * Baretti, Manners and Customs of Italy. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 419 

Evelyn in his day remarked their intrepid mettle, 
reflected in their large manufacture of firearms, which 
has ever been and still is a prominent industry. 

Brescia is also celebrated for her extensive Roman 
remains, which are third in size of all Italy, and reveal 
her importance among the ancients. She must then 
have been a happy, prosperous city, for history has 
small record of her affliction with wars, courts, or 
great events. Catullus spoke of her as "Brixia, 
Veronse mater amata mese,"^ and Virgil represented 
her river Mella, now a smooth, yellow stream of no 
large size, as — 

— tonsis in vallibus ilium [florem] 
Pastores et curva legunt prope flumina Mellae.* 

Probably the lack of a commanding or critical site 
was responsible for Brescia's early peace. She sits just 
as far to the west of the southern end of Lake Garda as 
Verona does to the east, and likewise at the end of a 
mountain valley (the Val Trompia of the Mella), with 
her citadel upon the last hill, and her houses spreading 
from its slope far out upon the plain; but the valley 
leads only to some mountain hamlets, and Brescia 
commands no pass, navigable river, nor other trade- 
route.^ Thus she had no strategic value; yet to-day she 

^ " Brescia, beloved mother of my Verona." 

2 Georgics, iv, 277, 278. 

^ It must be noted, however, that Brescia was the customary stopping- 
place, one day's journey from Milan, upon the great Roman road from the 
latter place to Friuli and the Orient; and as such, she not only handled a 
large amount of commerce (including that bound northward via Verona), 
but impressed her charms upon many an emperor, who showed his re- 
membrance in material ways, Caesar endowed the city with Roman citi- 
zenship; and Augustus richly embellished it with public buildings and 
monuments; hence its imperial name of Colonia Augusta Civica di Brescia. 
Further royal attentions made it a city " ripristinata, donata di augustali 
munificenze." — F. Odorici, Storie di Brescia, dai primi tempi all' etd, 
nostra ; — to whose ten learned volumes the reader is referred for the 
town's fullest and most accurate annals. 



420 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

possesses a population nearly as large as Verona's, — 
seventy thousand, — and is one of the chief industrial 
centres of Italy. 

With Verona, Brescia successively shared the dis- 
asters and occupations of the various barbarian na- 
tions; and became an occasional dwelling-place for 
Desiderius, the last Lombard King, who left the mark 
of his residence in buildings still standing. With the 
loosening of the grip of the Frankish Counts, the city's 
fast developing martial spirit set up an independent 
republic, about 1073, and proceeded to assert an 
active part in Lombard affairs. One of the first heroes 
she sent forth was the great free-thinking monk, 
Arnold of Brescia, who first preached against the riches 
and corruption of the clergy, advocated the freedom 
of the soil and the holiness of poverty, roused the 
Romans during their revolution of 1143 to such mad- 
ness that they sacked the monasteries, and was finally 
burnt at the stake in 1155 by Pope Hadrian IV. He 
has become to all liberal Italians the initiator and 
representative of free speech and advanced ideas; and 
when his monument in Rome was recently unveiled 
a violent anticlerical rioting took place. 

The Brescian Republic was as Guelph as Verona 
was Ghibelline, and, beginning with Frederick I, 
struggled unceasingly against the Imperial preten- 
sions; it was a prominent member of both Lombard 
leagues, suffered a losing siege from the first Frederick, 
and endured a victorious siege from the second Fred- 
erick in 1237, which he was forced to raise after sixty- 
eight days of fruitless attacks. Twenty-one years 
later, however, it fell into the terrible power of Ezze- 
lino, as a result of the internecine strife between Guelph 
and Ghibelline, which, up to the coming of the next 
Emperor, Henry VII, in 1310, rent every Lombard 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 421 

city till it succumbed to the grasp of some tyrant. The 
monster of them all chained his Brescian enemies to a 
rock in the open plain, and let them perish of hunger. 

But only one year later the Brescians obtained their 
revenge by deserting at a critical moment from his 
army; and Ezzelino was struck down by a Brescian 
soldier in the Guelphic host. The republic was rein- 
stated, endured some threescore years longer, and fell 
forever in 1332 before the martial genius of Can 
Grande della Scala. When the proud city emerged 
from the weaker grip of Mastino II, about 1335, it was 
only to feel the viler yoke of the perfidious Visconti, 
who had united with the Carrara in despoiling the de- 
generate Scaliger. Thus early did Brescia become an 
important part of Visconti territory, — joined to the 
fortunes of the race of the Viper ;'^ and in order to 
understand her subsequent history, it will be necessary 
to summarize here that race's record. 

The family of Della Torre had paved the way for 
Milanese tyranny by asserting absolute power over 
that city, as the result of prolonged struggles; so 
that when Otho Visconti, Archbishop of Milan, in 
1277 suddenly seized and imprisoned the Della Torre, 
his sole authority was recognized without trouble. 
Later he associated with him in the government his 
nephew Matteo, obtained from the Emperor the ap- 
pointment of them both as Imperial Vicars, and 
secured the people's acceptance of Matteo as his heir. 
Both of these were very strong men, and Matteo be- 
came "the model of a prudent Italian despot. . . . 
He ruled his states by force of character, craft, and 
insight, more than by violence or cruelty." ^ His 

* The Visconti standard and emblem represented an infant in the mouth 
of a snake. 
2 Symonds, Age of the Despots. 



422 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

successors followed his example. From 1302 to 1310 
he was temporarily ousted by the Delia Torre and 
the Guelphs; but with the advent of Henry VII in the 
latter year, his welcome by the Delia Torre, and his 
attempt to extort money from the Milanese, the peo- 
ple rose, expelled Emperor and Delia Torre together, 
and recalled the Visconti. The Guelphic cities every- 
where rose, and Brescia had to endure in consequence 
another distressing Imperial siege, which this time 
overcame her. 

Matteo's son Galeazzo succeeded him as despot in 
1322, and Galeazzo's son Azzo followed, who subjug- 
ated ten neighboring cities, including Brescia, and 
left a large kingdom at his death in 1339, to Lucchino, 
another son of Matteo. Lucchino secured possession 
of Parma and Pisa also ; and was soon succeeded by his 
brother Giovanni. "The Visconti now took the place 
of the Delia Scala as by far the most powerful of all the 
houses of the Lombard Plain. Giovanni held the lord- 
ship of sixteen flourishing Italian towns," ^ including 
Brescia, Bergamo, Crema, and Cremona. He was 
Archbishop of Milan as well as temporal ruler, — 
"the friend of Petrarch, and one of the most notable 
characters of the fourteenth century." ^ Upon his 
death the huge domains were for a time divided be- 
tween the three sons of his brother Stefano: Barnabo 
received the four cities last mentioned, Matteo the 
southern towns, and Galeazzo the western, while 
Genoa and Milan were to be ruled jointly. But the 
territories were soon reunited by the master political 
craftsman of the trecento, the ablest of all the Visconti, 
the greatest of all Italian despots, — Gian Galeazzo. 

Matteo was assassinated by his brothers; Galeazzo 

^ Oscar Browning, Guelfs and Ghihellines. 
^ Symonds, Age of the Despots. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 423 

died ; Gian Galeazzo, as his only son, succeeded him 
in 1378 in possession of the western towns, and, by 
long deceiving his uncle Barnabo with a mask of timid- 
ity, finally induced him, in 1385, to come out of Milan 
with his sons, and greet his nephew as the latter passed 
by with an escort of horsemen. It was a fatal error; 
for Gian Galeazzo with a word to his soldiers seized 
Barnabo and the sons, entered Milan, imprisoned 
them, and declared himself sole ruler of the Visconti 
domains. Then began those endless, far-reaching, 
secret schemings to make himself the master of all 
Italy, by any means discoverable, — treachery, mur- 
der, bribery, the sowing of dissension and suspicion, 
the deception of friends and foes, the hiring of con- 
dottieri to make wars, etc., — means which resulted 
in the steady addition to his state of one city after 
another, until it extended from the Alps to the Um- 
brian Plain, from Friuli to Piedmont and Liguria. 

While the rest of Italy trembled before the giant 
hand closing irresistibly upon them, suddenly, how- 
ever, in 1402, the plague carried off this archetype 
of Machiavelli's ideal prince.^ His dominions by his 
will were equally divided between the two legitimate 
infant sons, for whom the widowed Duchess Caterina 
was appointed guardian ; Giovanni Maria was to have 
Milan, and half the subject cities, including Brescia 
and Bergamo, — Filippo Maria, the other half, with 
Pavia for his capital. But — the formidable captains 
of adventure whom Gian Galeazzo had trained and 
held in leash, at the head of the forces which he had 
helped them gather, instantly disregarded this will, 
and acted for themselves ; while in those cities which 
they did not seize, the old local tyrants bobbed up 
again. 

* Machiavelli, De Principatibus. 



424 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Pandolfo Malatesta, the condottiere, with his troops 
grasped Brescia in the turmoil. Francesco della Car- 
rara took Verona. The Duchess now made her error 
of calHng the Venetians to her aid, — who expelled the 
Carrara from Verona, Vicenza, and Padua, but kept 
the spoil for their own. Catherine was soon poisoned; 
Gian Maria was murdered at Milan, where he had 
been indulging in the most inhuman atrocities ever 
known; and Filippo Maria, likewise a cruel degener- 
ate but more crafty and ambitious, proceeded step by 
step to recover his father's dominions, by his father's 
methods. He was a vile, hideous, cowardly creature, 
who hid himself from all men in secret chambers, and 
even constructed canals with high walls by which to 
pass unperceived from palace to palace; but he had 
inherited his father's power of using abler men. He 
discovered Carmagnola, making him captain of his 
armies; and the latter between 1412 and 1422 success- 
ively dislodged the swarm of lesser tyrants, including 
Malatesta from Brescia; and so recovered most of the 
Visconti territories. Then Filippo renewed his father's 
designs upon Italy, and attacked the more southerly 
states, with Francesco Sforza the elder as his general, 
— who, it is said, started life as a woodchopper. 
When Sforza was killed, his great son of the same 
name succeeded him. Carmagnola had been so bril- 
liantly successful that the mean spirit of Filippo was 
jealous, and disgraced him. 

It was his fatal error. Carmagnola fled to Venice, 
induced the Republic to yield to the entreaties of 
Florence to form a league against Milan, and in 1426 
led a powerful Venetian army to victory over the 
Duke. Brescia was the first fruit of the campaign, 
and, with her surrounding lands, became from that 
time a happy and prosperous Venetian subject. Car- 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE ' 425 

magnola drove the Milanese back on every side; 
Sforza revolted against the Duke and took for a 
while the other side, bought over by the Floren- 
tines. Carmagnola had such great successes that he 
became too independent and indolent for the Vene- 
tian Council of Ten; who finally suspected him of 
treasonable correspondence with Filippo, executed 
him, and placed Gattamelata in charge of their forces. 
The condottiere, Niccolo Piccinino, of Perugia, led 
the Milanese in the ensuing campaign, with much 
ability. 

Now occurred the memorable siege of Brescia in 
1439-40, by Filippo Visconti's army. The city had 
already grown so fond of the Republican rule that she 
"held out against unheard-of sufferings," — while 
Gattamelata strove to relieve h^r. The re-provision- 
ing of the city was finally accomplished by an unparal- 
lelled feat, which has gone reverberating through the 
annals of warfare: "Six ships and twenty-five lighter 
boats were built at Venice, taken up the Adige to Mori, 
just below Ala, and there placed upon rollers and 
greased boards; more than two thousand oxen were 
employed to haul them uphill, into the waters of the 
little lake of S. Andrea, From S. Andrea they were 
hauled in like fashion over a depression in Monte 
Baldo, and gradually lowered down the western slope 
till they reached the lake [of Garda] at Torbole."^ 
Brescia was thus re-stored, to the amazement of Pic- 
cinino; who was also soon defeated by Sforza, advanc- 
ing from the south, and escaped with his own life only 
"by being carried in a sack on the shoulders of one of 
his men." 

In 1442 Sforza was reattached to Duke Filippo by 
succeeding in the marriage which he demanded with 

* Brown, Venice: A Historical Sketch of the Republic. 



426 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the latter's only child, Bianca. Soon after Filippo ^ 
died, in 1447, without having succeeded, in spite of all 
his desperate attempts, in recovering either Brescia or 
Bergamo; which thenceforth remained loyal and pro- 
sperous Venetian cities, undisturbed in their allegiance, 
except during the War of the League of Cambrai, 
1508-16. 

At the beginning of that terrible period of warfare, 
after the first disastrous defeat of the Venetians, 
Brescia at once surrendered to the French; but the 
people were so maltreated, that they revolted on Feb- 
ruary 3, 1512. Thereupon the renowned Gaston de 
Foix — the "Thunderbolt of Italy," a nephew of 
Louis XII — took the city by assault, only sixteen 
days later, and gave it over to sack and massacre. 
This was one of the most terrible events of the Re- 
naissance age. For days the French troops hunted 
down the citizens, pillaged, and destroyed, until the 
city was a complete wreck, burned in large part, and 
most of tjie Brescians who had not fled beforehand 
were slain. Chevalier Bayard, the Knight " sans peur 
et sans reproche," who was wounded in the assault, 
stated in his diary that over twenty-two thousand 
persons, of every age and sex, filled the streets with 
their corpses. Brescia, till then one of the richest 
cities of North Italy, was completely ruined, and 
never entirely recovered from the destruction. The 
survivors now remembered that twenty-six years pre- 
viously this calamity had been prophesied to them, 
for their sinfulness, by a wandering monk, — ■ the 
martyr, Girolamo Savonarola! 

^ Filippo Maria, the last of the Visconti, was shortly succeeded in the 
dukedom of Milan by Francesco Sforza, his son-in-law, who reigned till 
1466. Five princes of the disastrous Sforza line rapidly followed him; his 
grandson Francesco II, the last duke, coming to his end in 1526, when 
Milan and its territories became a part of the Spanish dominions. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 427 

After the Peace of 1516, which ended the war of 
Cambrai, Brescia was returned to Venice, and thence- 
forth remained steady in her allegiance until the end 
of the Republic.^ With Verona she afterward endured 
the Austrian tyranny, but less patiently, and more 
resentfully, her spirit of freedom rising more fiery 
with every year of slavery, until she became the burn- 
ing soul and centre of the revolution in Lombardy. 
From Brescia there emanated an ever increasing 
stream of conspiracies, plots, organizations, and heroic 
leaders, against the foreign dominion; the grand old 
castle upon her height was extended, strengthened, 
and filled with Austrian battalions, to watch the 
seething city at their feet. 

These ebullitions at last burst forth in the rising of 
1848, when Brescia's spirit had permeated and roused 
the whole of Lombardy; like a whirlwind the Bres- 
cians sprang to arms, assumed their preconceived 
organization, and appointed as their leader Count 
Martinengo, — the noble, devoted head of an historic 
family, descended from that Tebaldo Martinengo to 
whom the Emperor Otho I for his bravery gave fifteen 
castles and the Order of the Red Eagle. When this 
first attempt was ended by the defeat of the Piedmont- 
ese and their Italian auxiliaries, under Charles Albert, 

^ An interesting incident of the Venetian period was the grandiose 
reception and entertainment, lasting twelve days, given by Giorgio Cor- 
naro, the Podesta, to his sister, the ex-Queen of Cyprus, on one of her three 
excursions from the solitude of Asolo {q.v.). "A guard of forty youths met 
her outside the town. . . . Triumphs and allegorical' pageants followed. 
. . . The Queen entered the city in a chariot of state drawn by four 
white horses, horned like unicorns. Jousts by torchlight were given, 
and the jousters marched in procession, with helmets on their heads 
from whose crests burnt flames. It was Caterina's last royal ceremony. 
. . . But Venice showed herself jealous of this play at mimic royalty, and 
Giorgio was soon after recalled." — Horatio Brown, Studies in the His- 
tory of Venice. 



428 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

at Novara, on March 23, 1849, — Brescia alone of the 
Lombard cities refused to yield, having again risen 
against the garrison, under Count Martinengo and 
the young hero Tito Speri, captured the Austrian gov- 
ernor, and blockaded his five hundred troops in the 
citadel. It was a magnificent foolhardiness, which in 
its very failure raised countless patriots from the blood 
of the slain. ^ 

Austrian batteries were massed about the city, and 
day after day, from them and from the castle, was 
poured a terrible storm of shot and shell that spared 
neither child nor woman, fired the houses in a score of 
places, and turned the streets into a blazing shambles. 
Despite everything, the citizens would not yield, pre- 
ferring death to that foreign domination. The pity of 
it all was, that General Haynau, the Austrian leader, 
knew of the result at Novara, but would not reveal it 
to the Brescians; he did not want them to have a valid 
reason for yielding; he was determined to exterminate 
them through their very courage. Finally the advanc- 
ing enemy, whose progress was bitterly contested from 
building to building, and street to street, hemmed 
the remaining Brescians into the central piazza, with 
"scenes of such atrocious cruelty as baffle descrip- 
tion. . . . The misfortunes of Brescia can only be 
equaled by its heroic bravery; and the name of this 
city has become sacred to all true Italians."^ 

The decimated remnant at last surrendered. Tito 
Speri and the other surviving leaders were ultimately 
allowed to go free; but several years later, for a 

^ "The Brescians are up!" cried George Meredith, in his romance, 
Vittoria. "Brescia is always the eagle that looks over Lombardy!" And 
the gifted author, who spoke of the Risorgimento as the first and greatest 
enthusiasm of his youth, described later with a thrilling power the flight of 
the surviving patriots from the captured city. 

^ The Italian Volunteers; Appendix, note D. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 429 

discovered conspiracy, Speri was confined, with many 
others, in the castle, which was one huge prison-house 
of patriots; then he was conveyed to the fortress of 
Mantua, and garroted. He was but twenty-eight 
years of age. The insurrection of 1849, however, be- 
came famous as "The Ten Days of Brescia"; and 
Haynau was known henceforth as "The Hyena of 
Brescia, — execrated throughout the civihzed world." ^ 
The city, nevertheless, was not dismayed; her intrepid 
spirit soon soared fiercely once more. Ten years of 
ceaseless plotting followed, — often discovered, as in 
the said cabal of 1851-52, which sent so many illus- 
trious citizens to the scaffold; and after the Peace of 
Villafranca, which freed Brescia, but left eastern 
Venetia still in Austrian hands, the Brescians con- 
tinued to agitate, plot, and organize, until the Italian 
Government was obliged, for form's sake, to arrest a 
large number of them in 1862, who were preparing a 
raid upon Austrian territory, under Garibaldi. 

Brescia's school of art was as distinct in personality 
as was her people's character; and though her artists 
were never numerous, they were strong, unique, and 
interesting. The Paduan school made the founda- 
tion, as elsewhere in Lombardy, — through Vincenzo 
Foppa, the pupil of Mantegna, and Ferramola and 
others of Foppa's disciples. Vincenzo Civerchio of 
Crema painted in Brescia about that time, and left 
the impress of his genius. Foppa it was who started 
the first school of Milan, also, in the latter half of the 
quattrocento. Ferramola, "a cold and disagreeable 
colorist,"^ survived the destruction of 1512, and left 
widespread works; a fellow-laborer of his, about 1500, 
was one Paolo Zoppo, a native Brescian also, said 

* Orsi, Modern Italy. 

* Layard, Handbook of Painting. 



430 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

to have been a pupil of Perugino and Giovanni 
Bellini. 

But now came the early cinquecentists, Brescia's 
greatest masters. Girolamo Romanino (1485-1566), 
who was the son of an obscure painter, and is said to 
have been early influenced by Civerchio's grace and 
power, completed his art education at Venice and 
Padua, where "from studying the works of Giorgione 
he acquired that brilliant golden coloring for which 
his works are celebrated."^ I had already seen good 
examples of them at Padua and Verona; but nearly all 
of them remain at Brescia, where he lived long and 
had many pupils. His only rival, and the greatest 
of all Brescians, was Alessandro Bonvicini, called 
II Moretto (1498-1555), the most of whose pictures 
are also in his native town, — though I had observed 
at Verona several specimens of his characteristic 
"silvery tone." 

f Moretto passed his whole life in Brescia; studying 
under Feriiamola first, then imitating Titian and the 
Venetians, he eventually "formed a style of his own, 
which ... is distinguished ... by a cool, tender, 
and harmonious scale of color which has a peculiar 
charm, and is entirely his own. . . . He almost 
rivaled Titian in the stateliness and dignity of his 
figures. . . . Moretto was of a gentle, pious nature, 
and his works are almost exclusively of a quiet, relig- 
ious character."^ It is related that he was wont to 
fast and pray long when composing a painting of a 
Madonna or other holy personage, and in such a way 
painted two or three canvases by inspiration, which 
attained miraculous powers. 

Geronimo Savoldo (1508-48) was the third great 
Brescian master, — who, however, seldom stayed 

^ Layard, Handbook of Painting. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 431 

there, having moved to Venice, where "he is known to 
have become one of the most formidable of Titian's 
rivals; not, indeed, in works of a large scale, but in 
smaller pieces conducted with an exquisite degree of 
care,"^ To me his works are invariably most delight- 
ful. 

The next generation, in the middle and latter part 
of the cinquecento, consisted chiefly of Moretto's pupils; 
foremost among them was Giovanni Battista Moroni, 
the renowned portrait painter, who was unsurpassed 
in that line. Perhaps ahead of them all, however, 
except Moroni, was Romanino's son-in-law and dis- 
ciple, Lattanzio Gambara, who painted imposing 
scriptural scenes, and "various histories and fables 
truly beautiful."^ After these men came the decad- 
ence. 

My journey from Verona to Brescia was accom- 
plished without incident, beyond the usual over- 
crowding of the train always found upon the main 
lines. The passengers were mostly commercial Ital- 
ians, who travel nowadays very much more than for- 
merly ; they pile luggage and wraps in the empty seats 
of a compartment, and often use every possible means, 
including glowering, snarling, and refusal to move, to 
deter others from entering, — being still, as a class, 
remarkably medieval in all ideas regarding their own 
comfort. The usual majority of traveling Italians, 
however, are very courteous. The train soon entered 
the swelling, rounded, low hills thrown forward by 
the Alps to the south of Lake Garda, and stopped 
awhile at Peschiera, at the lake's southeastern cor- 
ner, — beside its effluent, the historic river Mincio. 
The Mincio flows directly southward, wide and deep, 

1 Lanzi, History of Painting. 



432 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

past Valeggio and Mantua to the Po, and has always 
been of much strategic importance. Peschiera, a Httle 
place of eighteen hundred people, "buried in its al- 
most subterranean fastnesses like a mole," ^ has also 
been important in a strategic way only, having been 
a fortress for centuries, and a corner of the celebrated 
Austrian "Quadrilateral." A number of its huge bas- 
tions and moats were passed close at hand, — the 
same which were so bravely carried by the Pied- 
montese on May 30, 1848. 

Then we proceeded along the lake's southern shore, 
with beautiful views over its wide, blue expanse to the 
imposing Alps between which it gradually narrowed, 
— giving a far vista of wondrous grandeur. Charming 
white towns and hamlets dotted the receding, lux- 
uriant shores, and glistened from the dark Alpine 
flanks. Here extended the slim peninsula of Sirmione;^ 
and afar on the northwestern bank, stretched at the 
foot of those glowering peaks, lay the lovely pro- 
tected coast-strip known as the Riviera, fragrant and 
enchanting with its orange and lemon groves, and its 
verdure of eternal summer. To it well apply Goethe's 
enthusiastic lines : — 

Dost know the land of lemon flowers. 
Of dusky, gold-flecked orange bowers? 
The breath of the azure sky scarce heaves 
The myrtle and high laurel leaves.* 

* Hazlitt, Journey through France and Italy in 1826. 

2 Poets from the classic days to Tennyson have extolled the loveliness of 
this spot, and its enchanting Benacus. We remember Thomas Moore's 
translation of Catullus: — 

Sweet Sirmio! Thou the very eye 

Of all peninsulas and isles 

That in our lakes of silver lie. 

Or sleep enwreathed by Neptune's smiles. 

* R. H. Schauffler's translation. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 433 

We stopped another minute at Desenzano, at the 
southwest angle, a pleasant, modern-looking town of 
some five thousand inhabitants, whence the steamers 
ply to the other ports. Then starting a last time, and 
leaving the gracious lake behind, we crossed the plain 
northwesterly to the next spur of the Alps, rolled 
along its olive-covered, southern flanks for half a 
dozen miles, and reached Brescia at its farther ex- 
tremity. 

The station proved to be close without the southern 
wall, near the "Porta Stazione" at its western end. 
I climbed into the 'bus of the principal albergo, and 
was jolted through this gateway and up the wide, 
modern-looking Corso Vittorio Emanuele, north- 
eastward toward the city's centre. But when about 
halfway to the centre, we turned to the right, into the 
important thoroughfare which, under the names of 
Corsos Palestra, Zanardelli, and Magenta, crosses the 
city from west to east; and proceeding in the latter 
direction, we soon stopped in the wide, brilliant Zanar- 
delli, before the albergo on its southern side. 

The old courtyard of the hotel had been modernized 
into a glass-covered hall, with the restaurant on one 
side, as usual, and the stairs upon the other. Here for 
the first time in the plain-towns I was displeased; the 
prices appeared out of all proportion to the poor ac- 
commodation, the service was far from pleasant to 
me, and the pompous landlord particularly dis- 
agreeable. But I reflected that it was only for a week 
or two, and endured my troubles philosophically. As 
far back as Hazlitt's time, the bad inns of Brescia were 
a cause of complaint.^ 

The castle hill of Brescia, which, like Verona's, gave 
origin to the town, rises at the northeastern corner of 
^ Hazlitt, Journey through France and Italy in 1836 {sopra). 



434 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the quadrilateral, — whose sides turn generally to- 
ward the four points of the compass; it is a detached 
height, thrown forward some way from the southwest- 
ern angle of the mountain-chain; the hills retreat to 
the east and north, leaving a small section of the plain 

— the once beautiful vale of the Mella — extending 
behind the citadel for several miles. There a modern 
quarter has recently grown up, with the erection of 
dozens of factories, constituting Brescia's industrial 
life; so that their ugly windows, chimneys, and smoke- 
palls are conveniently separated and hidden by the 
lofty hill. 

Upon the latter the Romans built their fortress, and 
at its southern foot, their templed city, whose extent 
is still distinguishable by the regular network of right- 
angled streets, occupying about a sixth of the area of 
the present town. This Roman section is delimited on 
the west by the medieval piazzas, del Duomo and del 
Comune, — which now lie exactly in the city's centre, 

— by the.Corso Magenta on the south, the city wall 
on the east, and the steep hillside on the north. At the 
middle of the foot of this verdurous hillside stand the 
imposing remains of the great Temple to Hercules 
erected by the Emperor Vespasian; before which ex- 
tended the ancient Forum, — still partly open, with 
exiguous fragments of its classic buildings, under the 
modern name of Piazza del Museo. For the reconsti- 
tuted Temple has been fitly utilized as a museum of 
antiquities. 

I understood, then, the reason for the unusual width 
of the Corso Zanardelli (formerly called Corso del 
Teatro, on account of the location here of all the 
theatres) when I emerged upon it next morning for my 
preliminary walk: it occupies the site of the ancient 
southern wall. An early-medieval extension of the 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 435 

Roman town is also indicated upon the map, — its wall 
running westward halfway along the Corso Palestra, 
then northward along the Via della Pace and Via delle 
Battaglie; thus including the central piazzas and the 
early public buildings and churches. 

The Corso was quite modern in appearance, — stuc- 
coed modern buildings, tramway tracks, clanging cars, 
a crowd of vehicles, and a greater crowd of pedestri- 
ans; but on its northern side was a continuous deep 
arcade, with an upper story containing two windows 
over each wide arch, and over them again a series of 
extraordinary large chimneys, perched upon the very 
eaves; — while thirty feet back of these rose a man- 
sard roof carrying a hanging garden with trellised 
vines. Altogether a picturesque construction, — with 
a great triumphal arch in its centre, and its deep ar- 
cades filled with caffe-tables. 

At its western end, where the Corso changes its name 
to Palestra, the Via delle Spaderie — a quaint cogno- 
men, this "Street of the Sword-Shops" — diverges 
northward to Piazza Comune, three hundred yards 
distant. That one of the principal streets should have 
such a name fairly demonstrates the city's ancient 
activity in that line. Evelyn said in 1645: "Here I 
purchased . . . my fine carabine, which cost me nine 
pistoles; this Citty being famous for these firearms. 
. . . This Citty consists most in artists, every shop 
abounding in gunns, swords, armores, etc."^ — But 
first I sought the Piazza Nuova, — just off the Corso 
Palestra to the right, a block farther west, — used for 
the fruit and vegetable market. Here the scene was 

* Evelyn, Diary and Letters. — Here stood the workshop of the re- 
nowned armorer, Maso of Brescia; who is supposed to have wrought the 
very fine chain shirt in which Tito Melema sought to save his life. 
{Romola.) 



436 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

more medieval: two- and three-storied, old stucco 
houses surrounded the village of canvas-roofed booths, 
glaring in the sun, thronged with chattering, gesticu- 
lating people; the strange, large chimneys again sur- 
mounted the eaves, and at the west end rose a pretty 
marble fountain, bearing a shapely Cupid astride a 
dolphin. Behind this loomed a heavy rococo palace, 
of stucco with painful ornamentations, — one of the 
former residences of the Martinengo family, now 
occupied by the city health- and police-offices. I 
noticed some of the gendarmes, with costumes and 
batons much like those of Udine. 

Returning to the narrow Via delle Spaderie, I fol- 
lowed its crowded arcades to Piazza Comune (or 
Vecchia), where the arcades became two-storied and 
monumental, — along its eastern end. Westward 
before me stretched the paved open square, to a pa- 
latial structure of such superb and dazzling beauty 
that I stood rooted in surprise: a great mass of white 
and silvery gray marbles flashed brilliantly the radiant 
lines of arches, columns, pilasters, balustrades and 
carved cornices, assembled in the glorious harmony of 
the stately Renaissance, with a bewildering wealth of 
sculpture. Majestically imposing in the colossal arches 
and pillars, yet joyous and graceful in the countless 
rich details, that did not overload the purity of design, 
it glistened in the morning sunlight like an epitome 
of the great classic revival. It was Brescia's far-famed 
Palazzo Municipale, — one of the grandest efforts of 
the Renaissance. 

The general design is quite the same as many another 
Municipio of the plain-towns, — the three ground- 
floor arches, opening into the public loggia, and. the 
single upper story, pierced by three ornate windows; 
but what a difference in the magnitude of the scale, — 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 437 

the arclies, and the Corinthian half -columns facing 
their piers, rising to a height of thirty feet and more; 
the upper division towering twice as high again, far 
above the five-storied buildings near. And what a 
difference in the wealth of material and ornament: the 
exquisite carved arabesques on the faces of the upper 
pilasters; the convoluted foliage with charming putti, 
enriching the lovely frieze; the delicate, gleaming 
balustrades upon the cornices; the finely sculptured 
heads looking forth from apertures in the arch-span- 
drils; the sculptured Cupids gracing the eaves; — all 
conveyed to me a sense of enchantment, with the 
silvery glowing tone of a picture by Moretto. 

"La Loggia" — as the people like to call it — 
though commenced by the architect Fromontone in 
1492, under the orders of that magnificent builder, 
Gian Galeazzo Visconti, reflects mostly the genius of 
Sansovino; Palladio, too, modelled those beautiful 
window-frames, with the unusual carved cornices. 
The original design intended a dome upon the sum- 
mit, — which there is talk of now adding. The great 
hall upon which the windows opened, splendidly 
decorated by Palladio, was celebrated as one of the 
stateliest in Italy; but was unhappily destroyed by a 
fire in 1575. 

In the adjacent northwest angle of the piazza 
I observed a curious house which they had once com- 
menced to ornament in consonance with the palace, 
but had evidently stopped at the second story, leaving 
the upper bare stuccoed wall at a queer variance with 
the stone pilasters, ornate cornice, and handsome pedi- 
mented doorway below. Elsewhere handsome build- 
ings surrounded the piazza with a fit frame. On the 
south stood the long, three-storied palace, marble- 
faced and well-proportioned, of the Monte di Pieta, 



438 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

having pleasing Renaissance windows and two monu- 
mental, arched entrances. The eastern was framed by 
Corinthian pilasters, the western similarly inclosed, 
— with a double arcaded passage below, running most 
gracefully on central Corinthian columns through to 
a rear street; over it was a delightful colonnaded win- 
dow, of seven arches on dainty marble shafts, sculpt- 
ured roundabout with shields and arabesques. It 
would be difficult to find anywhere a more delicious 
bit of the Renaissance. 

On the east side of the piazza, the lofty arcade, car- 
ried upon white granite pillars, was adorned overhead 
with panels of shining black marble, a clock-face in 
the centre, and the municipal bell swinging openly 
upon the roof, with the usual bronze hammer-bearers 
to strike the hours. Again the loving imitation of St. 
Mark. At the northeast corner a heavy, medieval, 
stone fortress tower rose above the roofs, grimly battle- 
mented; and below it stood Brescia's monument to the 
heroes of the "Ten Days," showing the city as a 
marble female crowning her sons. 

I entered the loggia of the Municipio, which was 
adorned simply with the fine, monolithic, supporting 
columns, of Corinthian type, and a very lovely portal 
with four small columns at the sides, having delicate 
details of carved arabesques and serpentine medal- 
lions. Through an atrium I reached the grand stair- 
case of white stone, whose lofty roof was decorated 
with modern stucco reliefs and paintings; it had a 
beautiful balustrade, and marble paneling at the sides. 
But all this was modern; the original stairway — 
which mounted at each side of the atrium, and of 
which I saw a remaining landing, broken off just 
above the doorway — having been destroyed in the 
fire of 1575. The great upper hall then extended all 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 439 

the way back, over the well where this later staircase 
now mounted in the rear. An attendant at its top 
took me into the remaining half of the hall, in front; 
though entirely denuded of its marbles, and in a chaotic 
state of commenced renovation, the shapely, grouped, 
brick columns around the walls suggested visions of 
its former glory. These conceptions were proved 
correct a moment later, when, in looking over the 
oflfices partitioned off in the rear, I was shown a little 
painting, representing the hall's original design and 
appearance, of truly wonderful beauty; two other 
paintings represented the plan of the domed fagade, 
and the new hall now in process of construction. One 
office had an elegant, painted, wooden ceiling, of Re- 
naissance design, — put up immediately after the 
fire. 

On emerging I inspected the sides and back of the 
palace, finding the unusual fact that the rich design 
of the fagade had been carried entirely around, so 
that every aspect presented the same sumptuous and 
dazzling decoration of varied marbles; and the sides, 
from their much longer sweep, produced a deeper 
feeling of power and immensity. Italy has few struct- 
ures so perfectly carried out and entirely harmonized. 

Having now seen Brescia's capo di lavoro, I strolled 
through the archway of the clock-tower, eastward for 
a block, between closely set old stuccoed buildings, 
and southward then, immediately into the vast and 
stately Piazza del Duomo. On to the south it extended, 
for two hundred yards, with a breadth of fully seventy 
yards, to a handsome modern palace at the farther 
end; picturesque old buildings, painted in softened 
tints of brown, pink, ochre, and green, lined the western 
side; on the left rose first the renowned Broletto, with 
its diversified, Romanesque fagade, of fascinating in- 



440 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

terest; then the stupendous form of the Duomo Nuovo, 
with its ponderous, Late-Renaissance, stone front and 
soaring dome; and finally, the quaint, round building 
of the Duomo Vecchio, looking very aged and ugly 
in its rough-stone walls, beside the white magnificence 
of its successor. 

The huge Broletto, or old town-hall, I perceived 
extended a long way north from the piazza, along the 
narrow street issuing from that angle, and quite a dis- 
tance to the east, along the street between it and the 
Duomo Nuovo, — occupying thus a large block by 
itself. It is famous as one of Italy's finest Roman- 
esque buildings, abounding in varied, engaging de- 
tails of many different generations. It has all the 
force, dignity, and charming native developments of the 
civic structures erected in those ages when the cities 
were proud and glorious republics, not yet subjected 
to the debasements of tyranny. Therefore, though 
not so finished and perfectly beautiful as Gian Ga- 
leazzo's Municipio, it possesses, instead, a sense of 
stern power and grandeur, lightened by diverse de- 
tails of exquisite loveliness, — with a pathos arising 
from their manifestation of the victories won by those 
remote artisans, struggling by patriotic inspiration to 
overcome the difficulties of artistic ignorance. For it 
is a work of artisans, with each generation building 
differently from its predecessors, — rather than the 
product of an architect's design; and so it expresses the 
aspiring soul, the fiery spirit, of those long-gone people, 
written here clearly in brick and stone, — the im- 
perishable record of their struggles and slow advances. 

"In no way" — wrote the learned Symonds — "is 
the characteristic diversity of the Italian communities 
so noticeable as in their buildings. Each district, each 
town, has a well-defined peculiarity, reflecting the 




BRESCIA. PALAZZO MTNICIFALE (^FROAIENTUNK DA liKE.SCIA.) 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 441 

specific qualities of the inhabitants and the conditions 
under which they grew in culture." ^ 

The Broletto was mostly built between 1187 and 
1227, was continued in the quattrocento , and badly in- 
jured by horrible rococo changes in the seicento; but a 
restoration of the parts so mutilated had been recently 
commenced, in the original style. Broadly speaking, 
there were five different structures: the first on the 
corner next the Duomo, of white stone, with a fine, 
round-arched portal, a long, corbelled balcony, and a 
series of triple, Romanesque, marble windows on the 
second storyj that were really the most beautiful fea- 
ture of the whole building; — the triple round arches 
resting upon coupled red-marble shafts, and all in- 
closed within a large arch, recessed with mouldings. 
Two of these windows adorned the f agade, the others ex- 
tended all along the side toward the Duomo; some had 
been barbarously closed up in the seventeenth century, 
but were now being restored. The second part of the 
f agade, proceeding northward, was a high square tower 
of browned stone, unbroken, except for three loop- 
holes, to its battlemented belfry; the third was a long 
extent of gray stone, in the two lower stories, and of 
red brick in the topmost, with irregularly scattered, 
lovely, red-and- white windows, including several of 
three and four lights, with white marble shafts; all 
the upper windows had originally been of that charm- 
ing design,^ and will be so replaced ; the southernmost 
of those remaining, placed just over the arched entrance 
to the courtyard, was the ancient ringhiera, from 

^ J. A. Symonds, Fine Arts, chap. ii. 

^ These exquisite specimens of native duecento work, among the hand- 
somest to be found anywhere, have the voussoirs of their arches alternately 
red and white; while the graceful slender columns of white marble are 
coupled one behind the other, in pairs. 



442 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

which proclamations and addresses were made to the 
assembled people for centuries. 

Next came a striking composition of the quattro- 
cento, in brick with terra-cotta decoration, — the 
fagade of the abandoned Church of S. Agostino, once 
a part of the Broletto: it had an interesting Gothic 
doorway, with curious, medieval, stone lions' heads 
projecting roundabout from the wall, a charming 
cotta rose-window, and above that a fine pointed 
window; — but all three were blocked up and spoiled. 
Finally came a very early structure, on the corner, 
and extending along the northern side, composed of 
heterogeneous medieval materials and very homely, — 
except for the shapely cbtta frieze and cornice. Adja- 
cent to this northwestern corner a tiny park stretched 
up the first slope of the castle hill, — which here loomed 
far overhead; the fresh green of the few massed trees 
and the shrubbery, inclosed between high old dwell- 
ings, delighted my tired eyes; and before them I 
noticed a Bnarble statue gleaming, — a young soldier 
of fiery air, with musket and powder-horn, but common 
garments, and a face so inspired with patriotic fervor 
that the figure seemed to speak before my very gaze. 
It was Tito Speri, — fitly remembered here, at the 
foot of that fortress which he led his fellow citizens to 
assault, and on the very spot where occurred the 
bloodiest struggle of the conflict. 

Turning back, I entered the courtyard of the Bro- 
letto, — a wide space arcaded on the north and east 
sides, presenting another fanciful mixture of styles; 
the northern arcade was two-storied and of Renais- 
sance design, the eastern, Gothic; the original western 
one had been built up; and the windows above were 
scattered in picturesque irregularity and diversity, — 
including three more, on the south side, of those lovely 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 443 

Romanesque ones with three and four arches. Four 
pairs of their coupled, red-marble shafts were prettily 
twisted in spiral coils. The old stone walls had been 
patched, blocked up and reopened, till they looked 
much like a checker board. People were continually 
passing in large numbers, using the court as a conduit 
from one street to another; they stood in groups, 
shouting at each other with an echoing din; vehicles 
passed also, the drivers using the arcades for stalls, 
and leading their horses to drink at the central 
fountain. 

I crossed to the eastern arcade, supported on heavy 
stone piers, and found it double, with "another row of 
piers running down the centre. . . . The groining has 
transverse and diagonal ribs, the former being very 
remarkable, and, as not unfrequently seen in good 
Italian work, slightly ogeed." ^ This peculiarity struck 
me, however, as quite unusual, especially in a cloister. 
There was a long stately stone stairway here, which I 
ascended to the first floor, and there inspected a num- 
ber of courtrooms and council-chambers, filled with 
the customary green baize tables ; several of the rooms 
on the south side retained the original early ceilings, 
with frescoes in crumbling Renaissance designs; and 
there were two of the original big Romanesque win- 
dows. But I have seldom seen dingier furniture than 
that which disgraced these public apartments. 

I next repaired to the Duomo Nuovo, whose white 
rococo fagade, erected about 1600, is more imposing 
than pleasing; it is in two divisions, with Corinthian 
half -columns and pilasters for ornament; there are 
three ugly squared doorways, and one upper window; 
enormous as the dome is, — third largest in all Italy, 
— it is concealed from the front by the lofty gable. 

^ Street, Brick and Marble in the Middle Ages. 



444 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Like the Municipio, no expense has been spared in 
qarrying the same wealth of material and decoration 
around the sides and rear. The adjacent old cathe- 
dral, called from its shape "La Rotonda," dated orig- 
inally from the seventh century; but in its present 
form is of the tenth or eleventh, — as the medieval 
walls of rough stone bear witness. 

Its large central drum is pierced by a row of round- 
arched windows near the top, is decorated with Lom- 
bard pilaster-strips, and an arcaded cornice, and sur- 
rounded by a one-stt>ry lean-to, in which opens the 
main portal, of rococo design; a subsidiary entrance is 
in the northwest side. This latter is of brick, round- 
arched, with an old fresco of the Madonna and Saints 
in its lunette, and opens upon a railed area eight feet 
below, reached by steps from the street, — showing 
how much the street level has risen since the build- 
ing's erection. Eight feet in eight centuries, — slowly, 
imperceptibly, by the mere bringing of country mud on 
horses' hobfs and the deposit of waste; such was the 
inevitable consequence of the old method of throwing 
all garbage into the unpaved streets, — which buried 
all the ancient cities so far beneath our levels. 

It was now afternoon, and the cathedrals were both 
closed for the siesta hour; but on another day I en- 
tered the Duomo Nuovo, and stood surprised in its 
vast, majestic interior, shaped like a Greek cross, 
dwarfing all things with its far-off vaulting and stu- 
pendous dome. The dimensions were not only magni- 
ficent, but in perfect proportions, and all in light 
hues. The enormous white piers separating nave from 
aisles were adorned with Corinthian half-columns and 
pilasters, rising to a rich frieze and cornice; the barrel- 
vaulting of creamy stucco carried boldly decorated 
ribs; around the great drum, in its flood of light, rose 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 445 

other pilasters and cornices, terminating in the dome 
that soared wonderfully to heaven. 

By the first two piers stood modern monuments to 
deceased bishops, with some of the excellent sculpture 
of recent days; and over the second altar to the right 

— affixed, like the others, directly to the side wall — 
stood another and very striking modern work, a mag- 
nificent Renaissance pala-iraine, of four huge gilded 
columns upholding a gilded entablature, embellished 
with two marble statues. It contained a painting by 
Gregoletti, of Christ healing the sick. Next to this 
came a genuine Renaissance work, of exceeding at- 
tractiveness: an exquisitely carved marble sarcopha- 
gus, crowned by three statuettes, and cut upon the 
front side with three panels of reliefs, containing many 
small figures of fine execution and dramatic action, 

— scenes from the lives of the saints whose bodies 
lay within; these were Saints Apollonius and Philas- 
trus, — early Bishops of Brescia. 

After one more look about the colossal edifice, re- 
flecting how superior it was in luminosity and grace to 
the Duomo of Florence, — which is of much the same 
size and general plan, — I followed the guiding sac- 
ristan down a passage to the right, descending a flight 
of steps, into the presbytery of the Duomo Vecchio. 
The circular nave of the tenth century lay still lower, 
surrounded by eight heavy piers bearing rounded 
arches, all of bare rough stone, likewise the wall above 
them, in which the series of unframed windows ad- 
mitted the light. Behind the piers circled an ambu- 
latory, somewhat higher, — in which I was shown a 
remaining section of the frescoes, coeval with the build- 
ing, that once covered its vaulted roof; they were per- 
fectly Byzantine, exactly like mosaic in design and 
effect. Real, modern mosaic covered the floor of the 



446 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

nave; but the sacristan lifted a trap-door, displaying 
a piece of tlie original pavement, one thousand years 
old.i 

Upon the west side of the ambulatory, adjacent to 
the seldom used main entrance, I saw two fragments of 
the old stairways, supported on heavy columns against 
the wall, which once mounted to the tower there, 
that was demolished in 1708. The ambulatory further 
contained some interesting early tombs and reliefs; 
chief among them, the magnificent red-marble tomb 
of Bishop Berardo Maggi, dated 1308. On the cover 
of the sarcophagus lies the Bishop in full robes, with 
mitre and crozier, — the four Evangelists, in minia- 
ture, sitting at his head and feet; also at the head and 
feet, in separate niches, are the two martyred bishops, 
ApoUonius and Philastrus, and the two protecting 
saints of Brescia, Faustinus and Jovita. Behind the 
reclining form winds a most quaint procession of little 
figures, — the priests who composed the decedent's 
funeral corlege, carrying all the picturesque parapher- 
nalia of the epoch. On the sides are St. George and 
the dragon. Saints Peter and Paul, and an extraordi- 
nary large tableau of the decedent being first received 
into a monastery, showing the friars headed by their 
abbot, the friends and relatives, and two of the monks 
administering the oath to the novice. The artist was 
probably Ugo da Campione, and it is one of his 
finest works. 

* Among the innumerable grand pageants and historic ceremonies that 
have been enacted on that pavement, — for every civic act of medieval 
days was consecrated by the Church, — we may note the momentous 
occasion of May 30, 1431, when, Brescia having been at last occupied by 
Venice, and Filippo Visconti straining every resource to recover the city, 
amid a gorgeous concourse of all her notabilities the already beloved 
"standard of San Marco was solemnly consigned to Carmagnola; — and 
lie took the field in force." — Brown, Studies in the History of Venice. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 447 

Faustinus and Jovita, of whom the Brescians think 
so very highly, were brothers, natives of the city, 
who were converted by that same St. Apollonius, and 
devoted their property and hves to well-doing; but 
being finally accused of the crime of Christianity, 
which they admitted and refused to recant, they were 
thrown to the lions, — who of course declined to injure 
them, — and were then beheaded. A curious tenth- 
century relief of St. Apollonius adorned the wall near 
the tomb. On the east side of the ambulatory were a 
very lifelike and graceful trecento relief of the Ma- 
donna, and two more interesting tombs: that of 
Bishop Lambertino di Bologna, of 1349, having the 
customary recumbent figure on the top, and the 
Madonna with seven standing saints upon the front; 
and another of 1479, in a niche having an elegant 
marble Renaissance frame. 

Here steps ascended from the rotonda to the am- 
bulatory and from the latter to the presbytery, — 
which was remarkably wide, and was added consider- 
ably later, together with the long choir and apse. 
Upon the apse wall hung Moretto's splendid As- 
sumption of the Virgin, — whose noble, majestic 
figure, seldom equalled in gracious dignity, hovers in 
clouds amidst lovely child-angels, above the apostles 
grouped in attitudes of amazement. The tone was 
luxurious, golden above and silvery below, and the 
whole effect superbly brilliant. At its sides hung two 
Romaninos, of his poorer quality, suffering sadly by 
the comparison; but below it was a sublime master- 
piece of Palma Vecchio's, an Adoration of the Shep- 
herds, of a grandeur of composition and figures, a 
magnificence of tone, coloring, and luminous, golden 
atmosphere, that exalt the observer instantly into a 
celestial sphere. The Virgin with her Infant sits at 



448 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

the right, the Shepherds kneel at the left, and behind 
them stretches a lustrous landscape, with flocks of sheep 
and stately trees dotting the near velvety sward, 
and mighty mountains looming blue in the distance. 
It is indeed impossible to conceive anything more 
beautiful than Palma's best works. 

Here also was an alleged Giorgione, a Christ falling 
under the Cross, which is certainly not the product of 
that master, though indeed very rich in hue and glow. 
And in a chapel to the right of the choir, having a 
cinquecento marble railing, adorned with six charm- 
ing putti, I saw five more Morettos, — a large canvas 
of Elias sleeping in the Wilderness, with a child-angel 
bringing food, and four small paintings of the Evan- 
gelists. Here was another Romanino, — a group of 
people at table, dispensing charity. In the chapel on 
the left is hidden a supposed piece of the true Cross, 
— which is exhibited once every ten years, when the 
people become frantic with excitement; their perfect 
credulity is sometimes rather pitiful. 

The crypt below the choir and presbytery follows 
their shape, with twenty columns from ancient Ro- 
man edifiqes, of every size and form, arranged in sev- 
eral rows; their capitals are partially Roman, partially 
work of the fourth and fifth centuries, — when this 
Church of S. Filastro was constructed. Over the altar, 
where SS. Filastro and Apollonio were formerly buried, 
is an almost destroyed fresco of that same period, re- 
presenting the Saviour and the two saints, in classic 
embroidered robes of many colors. I could with 
difficulty realize that I looked upon a painting exe- 
cuted in the days of Constantine or Theodosius.^ 

^ This extraordinary relic of Imperial days, though undoubtedly re- 
touched at a later epoch, shows that even before the coming of Byzantine 
art Roman painting, already thoroughly decadent, had commenced to run 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 449 

On the second morning of my stay I visited the 
Piazza della Posta, in the rear of the Broletto, com- 
manding a fair view of the overshadowing castle- 
hill, with its long green slope extensively covered with 
trees, and at the summit a large building of rough 
stone, flanked by towers. This I knew was the main 
structure of the ancient fortress, which the Austrians 
had built over, and used as a prison for the patriots. 
On the piazza's eastern side lay the central post-office, 
also the building of the Queriniana Library, dating 
from 1750, containing a number of rare old manu- 
scripts (including Dante and Petrarch), medieval 
tomes illustrated with miniatures, and other books of 
the ninth and tenth centuries; but its best treasures 
have been transported to the Museo Medievale. 

Proceeding a couple of blocks eastward, I came to 
the Piazza del Museo, long and narrow, occupying the 
centre of the ancient forum; and looking down it from 
the first slope of the hillside, as of old, stood the re- 
constructed Temple of Hercules. Advancing near, I 
saw that its remaining original materials consisted of 
the high stone steps, their flanking parapets of un- 
faced brick, the bases and lower portions of nine of 
the ten great Corinthian columns, one entire column, 
and the major part of the brick wall of the cellce, — - 
from which, as elsewhere, the marble had been taken. 
The fragmentary columns had been recently finished, 
the walls of the cellce completed, and a new roof super- 
imposed ; so that the exterior appearance, save for the 
marble facing, was as gracefully impressive as eighteen 
centuries ago.^ 

into those stifiF, angular, lifeless moulds, of conventional effigies, which 
were all that could be produced by the mosaics of the succeeding centuries. 
But there is here, in the richly embroidered garments, a fascinating hint of 
the art's preceding powers. 

^ When Vespasian in 69 arrived with his army from the East, marching 



450 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

How strange it was to walk up these same worn steps 
that such numberless Roman sandals had ascended in 
that long-ago. Here were the same three doorways 
(with modern frames), and behind them the same three 
lofty cellce, where the ancients prayed and sacrificed 
to the gods. The central, larger chamber, on whose 
rear platform had stood the statue of Hercules, even 
retained a part of its original mosaic flooring, roped 
off in the middle, adorned with fine figures of ani- 
mal life. Around the walls of all three rooms were 
placed Roman remains of sculpture and architecture,^ 
glass and earthenware, coins and bronzes, including 
some fragments of the huge image of Hercules, bits 
of the temple's beautiful entablature, and a few hand- 
some pieces of Roman armor. 

But the most celebrated object of this "Museo Ci- 
vico Eta Romana" was its marvelous bronze figure of 
a female charioteer, over life-size, called the "Statue 
of Victory," — which occupied the centre of the left 
chamber. Her form is superbly modeled in the best 
Greek style, clad only in a thin clinging robe, whose 

along the Subalpine Road, Brescia gave him a hearty welcome; and sent 
her militia tg aid his general. Ant. Primo, in the assault and capture of 
Cremona, — the last stronghold of Vitellius. In remembrance thereof, 
Vespasian, the following year, ordered the erection of this splendid temple 
at the head of the Brescian forum, and its rich decoration also, at his own 
expense. Hence the name by which it has ever been commonly known, — 
the Temple of Vespasian. 

^ This celebrated collection demonstrates in two ways the size and 
magnificence of ancient Brescia : firstly, by its remains of so many distinct- 
ive buildings of high class, — palaces, porticoes, temples, monuments, 
etc., — discovered in all parts of the modern city, and extensively in the 
surrounding fields; secondly, by its remarkable aggregation of tablets and 
other inscriptions, worthy of the deepest study, whose words substantiate 
not only the grandeur of the Roman town, but also its importance, — as 
reflected in the numerous visits recorded of emperors and other exalted 
personages, and their many decrees and acts for the municipality's benefit. 
— As further evidence there is the interesting series of fragments of splen- 
did mosaic pavements, clearly from public edifices of the highest rank. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 451 

loose folds are girded naturally about the hips, — and 
which is fastened together upon the shoulders, with 
the right fastening slipped down upon the arm; the 
hair is bound about the temples with a fillet, and 
the back provided with wings, — which the Greeks 
seem to have given to their goddess Nike; the left 
foot is slightly raised upon a block, the lovely head 
turned slightly to the left, and the arms extended in 
the same direction, with fingers flexed as if grasping 
the reins. For long after her discovery in 1826, this 
attitude was thought explained by placing the left 
upper hand on the top of a shield, whose bottom 
rested upon the hip, and putting a crayon in the lower 
right hand, as if she were writing upon the shield. 
But recently it has been discovered (why not long 
ago, I cannot imagine) that the glance from under her 
lowered brows is directed keenly at some point a little 
distant on her left, and of nearly the same height, also 
that her hands are more naturally shaped to hold a 
pair of reins than a shield and pencil. It is indubitable: 
she was standing in a chariot, driving, with her eyes 
upon the horses' heads, the reins passing first through 
her upper hand and secondly through her right. If 
the whole biga was of the same superlative excellence 
as this inspiring charioteer, what a wonderful sight 
it must have been! She has all the dignity, grace, and 
power of an Olympian goddess; and is rightly placed 
among the half dozen greatest remaining statues of 
antiquity. 

Two other relics of the forum exist: one, a Corinth- 
ian column with a fragment of its entablature, and its 
base approached by steps, located in an excavation 
on the east side of the piazza, about fifteen feet below 
the level of the street, — showing that the forum's 
pavement was that much lower than the present; 



452 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

this was clearly a portico, such as surrounded all the 
imperial forums. The other relic consists of some lofty- 
columns embedded in a house wall, — somewhat to the 
south of the modern piazza, in the right-hand street 
leaving its bottom, — which have been identified as a 
part of the Roman Curia. In the same neighborhood 
I found another, unidentified bit of ancient architect- 
ure, likewise built into a wall, and likewise calling 
to mind, by its hint of stately colonnades, porticoes, 
and temples, how magnificent this spot must once have 
been.^ It was enough to make one sigh, to look around 
at the present shabby, ugly buildings and dingy, nar- 
row streets. 

How had there come so vast a change? Not through 
the abused barbarians, says the modern critic; ^ — 
although Alaric in 401 threw down the walls of that 
superb ancient city, and ruined many buildings in his 
sack, while Attila in 450 repeated the process. The 
greatest destruction ensued gradually in the following 
centuries, when through the changes in laws, customs 
and habits of thought under the Lombard rule, the 
impoverished and oppressed citizens abandoned their 
old amusements, and allowed the theatres, temples 
and public edifices to fall together into ruin. Then 
began their steady spoliation for the building of habi- 
tations, and the erection by the nobles of their palace- 

^ All these various remains, says Dr. Giovanni Labus in his fine work on 
the Vari Monumenti Antichi in Brescia, "record many great and majestic 
edifices; amongst which were a theatre, also an amphitheatre, . . . and a 
most imposing temple, indicated by a mighty column discovered in the 
garden of Count Luzzago." A part of the foundations of the great theatre 
has been found in the yard of the building directly east of the Temple of 
Hercules, — lately used as a barrack, and therefore very difficult of access; 
as was to be expected, the ancients had made use of the hillside for that 
purpose. The amphitheatre, by equal custom, lay out upon the plain, 
beyond the southern walls. 

^ Dr. Giovanni Labus, idem. 



BRESCIA THE BRAVE 453 

fortresses. The disastrous fires of 776 and 1097, and 
the violent earthquakes of 1117 and 1212, completed 
the destruction; for after each catastrophe, there was 
no quarry so handy as the stones of the Roman ruins. 
The wonder is, then, that the drum of a single column 
yet remains on its original spot, to remind us of the 
vanished magnificence and glory of Brescia Augusta. 



CHAPTER XII 

BRESCIA LA FERREA 

Yet not in vain, although in vain, 
O men of Brescia, on the day 
Of loss past hope, I heard you say 
Your welcome to the noble pain. — 

Ah! not for idle hatred, not 
For honor, fame, nor self-applause, 
But for the glory of the cause 
You did what will not be forgot. 

— Arthur Clough. 

From ancient Brescia I advanced to medieval Brescia, 
by leaving the old forum for the group of churches a 
block farther east, — in one of which is located her 
Museo Medioevale. This is the desecrated edifice of 
S. Giulia, a little to the left, upon the east side of 
the next street, Via Gambara, and at the very foot 
of the castle hill. The street which I was following. 
Via Santa Giulia, runs east and west at the bottom 
of the slope ; and here, in this angle between the two 
ways. King Desiderius erected the great convent of S. 
Giulia, a large block of buildings now containing three 
churches, — S. Salvatore, S. Giulia, and S. Maria del 
Solario.^ The last faces upon Via S. Giulia a little 

^ This was done by the King partly as a religious offering, partly for the 
sake of his daughter Ansilperga, who wished to take the veil. Accordingly 
she became the first Abbess of the convent, choosing Santa Giulia for its 
patron, and surrounding herself with a following of noble maidens from the 
highest Lombard aristocracy. To females of such birth the convent was 
thereafter always restricted, causing it to be considered, until its closure, 
one of the two or three most select in Europe. Its wealth was in accord- 
ance, for Desiderius had most richly endowed it. 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 455 

beyond the corner; S. Salvatore lies behind S. Giulia, 
at a lower level. The convent is abolished now, its 
two oldest churches kept only as antiquities, and the 
third given over to the uses of the museum. 

S. Giulia was too recent to serve as an antique, 
having been constructed in the fifteenth and sixteenth 
centuries ; and accordingly I found its f agade to be of 
Renaissance design, surprisingly handsome, all in 
gleaming white stone. It had two lofty divisions, both 
adorned with fine Corinthian pilasters, and sur- 
mounted by a gable. Entering by a side passage, on 
showing my governmental pass I was admitted by the 
custode to the spacious interior. Here a unique sight 
confronted me: a wide, high-arched nave without 
aisles, columns, or transept, with a choir of the same 
width and height, and an intervening presbytery 
marked by two triumphal arches; the plastered walls 
and ceiling of the choir being covered with huge glis- 
tening frescoes, vividly colored; while the whole space 
was filled from end to end with monuments, statuary, 
showcases, weapons, armor, ivory carvings, architect- 
ural fragments, bronzes, — a vast collection of objets 
d'art of every size and kind, all products of the "Dark 
Ages," and demonstrating how far from dark they 
really were. 

The choir, built first as a church in itself, about 1466, 
carried three curious stucco arches on each side wall, 
inclosing altars ; the nave, built in 1599, carried a hand- 
some stone frieze and cornice roundabout, sustained 
by Corinthian pilasters ascending between its side 
altar places. I first examined the vivid, retouched 
frescoes of the choir, finding the side recesses also 
completely painted with scenes, — on the back walls, 
lateral spaces, soffits, and wall above, — all exceedingly 
bright, dramatic, and picturesque; these were works 



456 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

of Ferramola, Zoppo, and the younger Foppa, — thus 
varying from quattrocento simpHcity to cinquecento 
freedom. The abundant retouching had greatly ob- 
scured the original mannerisms; but the pictures were 
still interesting, and the tout ensemble presented a more 
brilliant effect than any of like nature I had found. 

The work on the right was Zoppo's, — and the 
poorest, — consisting of scenes from the Passion ; 
that in the first two recesses on the left was Ferra- 
mola's, mostly ruined by the "restorer," but includ- 
ing a Deposition finely composed and full of feeling; 
that on the end wall was Foppa's, and much the best, 
consisting of a huge Crucifixion, with eight small 
tableaux at the sides, and below. The Crucifixion 
was an excellent picture, not retouched, being strongly 
spaced and disposed, and quietly colored, with well- 
drawn figures of considerable grace and expression, 
and an originally fine background and sky-effect. The 
paintings on the upper side-walls, above the archways, 
were better preserved, and generally better done, than 
those below them; they were entirely from the New 
Testament; but their authorship is uncertainly scat- 
tered amongst the three artists and their pupils. 

The third archway on the left contained something, 
however, that was more beautiful and impressive than 
all the brushwork, — the magnificent marble mauso- 
leum of Count Marcantonio Martinengo : a celebrated 
cinquecento sculpture, among the richest in North 
Italy. It was in the accepted form of a sarcophagus 
raised upon columns, which rested upon an ornamental 
base; but in this instance it backed against the wall, 
leaving but three sides exposed, with pilasters corre- 
lating to the four columns in front; and its height was 
unusual, being fully ten feet. The exuberant and 
fanciful decoration of the cinquecento covered every- 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 457 

thing with richest reliefs, — columns, base, pilasters, 
back panels, entablature, and sarcophagus; the frieze 
was of bronze plates, with a great many little figures 
in procession; five large square plates adorned the 
sarcophagus, showing scenes from the Passion; three 
round ones decorated the rear panels, and a number 
of little round ones the bases of the columns; — but 
seventeen altogether of these bronze pieces still re- 
mained in France, whither they had been carried 
in the wars. 

Those returned to their places are the best work of 
the monument, especially the scene of the Scourging, 
— and the populace fleeing from a plague, upon the 
frieze. Further lustre is added to the tomb by the 
varied colors of the marbles, — white above, gray in 
the entablature, white in the capitals and the plinths 
of the columns and pilasters (these plinths are cut 
with mermaids at the angles), and silvery gray again 
in the shafts and bases. Charming arabesques are 
relieved upon the white rear panels, and draped about 
the columns and pilasters; and the circular bronze 
plaques in the bases of the latter bear fascinating little 
groups, of two to four figures each. At the end of an 
hour's inspection, I kept finding new delightful de- 
tails that had yet escaped me. Unfortunately, the 
worker of this masterpiece is unknown. 

A whole day could comfortably be spent in examin- 
ing the treasures that crowd these wonderful halls. 
Prominent among them I noticed a remarkable Dutch 
seicento ivory sculpture, half life-size, placed in the 
presbytery, — representing very realistically the Sacri- 
fice of Abraham; foremost in the nave were some cases 
of Lombard jeweled work, including the renowned 
Cross of Galla Placidia, about four feet high, Greek in 
shape, made of wood covered with silver and embossed 



458 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

with two hundred and twelve different antique gems 
and cameos. These stones were mainly of large size, 
of every ancient epoch and origin, and studded both 
the sides very closely. At the centre of one side was 
a wooden, gilded, archaic figure of the throned Christ, 
and at the other, a Crucifix. The crudeness of the 
Christ, and of the cuttings of some of the gems done 
at that period, — the very mountings of the stones, 
in clumsy bands of silver, all showed the artistic dark- 
ness of the makers. 

But most interesting of all, and, in fact, one of the 
half-dozen most interesting relics of North Italy, was 
the aureographic miniature at the bottom of one side, 
showing with a startling lifelikeness, fairly photo- 
graphic, a young mother with her two children. Here 
I was looking upon persons dead fourteen centuries, 
— historically famous persons, — Galla Placidia her- 
self, with her young son Valentinian III, and her 
daughter Honoria! It was indeed startling, to have 
these royal personages suddenly emerge from the far- 
off, classic age of Rome, — which has left us no other 
such photographic likenesses, — and look one as nat- 
urally in the face, garbed with simple costumes, as if 
they were alive to-day. It seemed incredible that I 
could really be beholding ancient Romans, — in a 
picture of their own mystical era. Upon the dark 
circle of the glass, the three busts appeared looking 
out at me, — Placidia and her young son of seven 
or eight years seated in front, Honoria standing in 
the rear; they were clad, as I have said, in the very 
simplest of garments, which rather accentuated the 
homeliness of their elongated features; the females 
wore a sort of pompadour roll, brushed from their high 
foreheads, and Placidia had also a pearl necklace about 
her throat, and pearl pendants in her ears. In coloring 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 459 

and faithfulness to nature, it was quite like a daguerreo- 
type of sixty years ago.^ 

Placidia was the daughter of Theodosius the Great, 
reared with every advantage of education and accom- 
plishment; and when at his death the Empire was 
definitely divided between her brothers Arcadius and 
Honorius, she accompanied the latter to his Roman 
throne. Then came Alaric, with his three successive 
sieges of the Capital, — upon whose surrender Placi- 
dia became a Gothic captive, compelled to follow about 
Italy in their train. The cowardly Honorius had taken 
refuge in Ravenna. His sister, then about twenty 
years of age, must have had greater charms than are 
shown in this likeness of the woman of thirty -five, for 
she soon fascinated Adolphus, the brother-in-law and 
brilliant general of Alaric; and when Adolphus became 
King of the Visigoths, at Alaric's death soon after- 
ward, Placidia married him, despite the thunders of 
the Emperor. 

^ This wonderful aureograph was executed for Placidia, about 425, by 
Bonnerio, a Greek artificer, probably domiciled at Ravenna, where she was 
reigning. From her it passed into the possession of the cathedral treasury 
there; where it still lay when King Desiderius, two centuries later, placed 
a prelate favorite of his, one Michele, on the vacant archiepiscopal throne 
by force of arms. Michele in return stripped the treasury of its choicest 
valuables for a thank-offering to the King, including amongst them the 
Cross of Placidia, and many of the other jewels now exposed in the Mu- 
seum. Desiderius, doubtless stricken by superstitious fears, soon turned 
over the valuables so earned to his daughter Ansilperga, as Abbess of S. 
Giulia, — thinking thus to make his peace with an offended Heaven. The 
Cross and jewels then remained in the treasury of the convent until the 
dissolution of the latter, when they became the property of the munici- 
pality of Brescia. — Bonnerio, says Sig. Odorici, "extended over the round 
glass a gold leaf, and upon that, with most subtle skill, by the strokes and 
points of a pen outlined these portraits. The gems represented he then 
worked in silver; leaving us his own name in the gold, he removed the 
superfluity of the leaf, and covered the work with a dark-blue tinting. 
There resulted distinct gradations of the chiaroscuro, the variety of acces- 
sories, the most delicate shades of the imperceptible mezzotints." — Storie 
Bresciane (sopra). 



460 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Adolphus then became reconciled with Honorius, 
and led his barbarian host, as Roman general-in-chief , 
to bring back the rebellious Gauls to their allegiance. 
His queen accompanied him, and at Narbonne, accord- 
ing to Gothic custom, their delayed wedding-feast was 
celebrated upon the first anniversary of their nup- 
tials. Adolphus made his gift to the bride in the shape 
of "fifty beautiful youths, in silken robes, [who] car- 
ried a basin in each hand; and one of these basins was 
filled with pieces of gold, the other with precious 
stones of an inestimable value." ^ This vast wealth of 
gems was "an inconsiderable portion" of the endless 
treasures seized by the barbarians in Italy, where 
the gold and precious stones of the world had been 
accumulating for four hundred years, drawn by the 
conquerors from every country. An indescribable 
sensation seized me as I realized that these very 
gems before me, which had been Placidia's, must have 
come to her in those same basins from Adolphus. 
What stranger and more intimate contact with the 
remote past could there be, than this lifting of its 
veil for an instant's revelation. 

But when the Goths had subjugated Gaul, and ad- 
vanced into Spain for a similar purpose, Placidia's 
troubles began: her first child died, Adolphus was 
assassinated, and his widow — "dragged in chains by 
his insulting assassin." ^ The latter was also murdered, 
after seven days; Wallia became king, and consented 
to a treaty with Honorius by which his sister was re- 
turned to him. She arrived joyfully at Ravenna, only 
to find that a new marriage for her had already been 
arranged, — with the Roman general, Constantius. 
Placidia, resisting, was forced to yield; but she soon 
came to love her manly husband, and bore him the 

* Gibbon, vol. iii, chap. xxxi. * Gibbon, vol. in, chap, xxxrii. 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 461 

two children now before me. Again misfortune came, 
with the death of Constantius, and a subsequent quar- 
rel with Honorius; which obliged Placidia and her 
children to seek a refuge in Constantinople, with her 
nephew Theodosius the younger. 

The death of Honorius followed, and Theodosius 
by force of arms seated the child Valentinian III on 
the Western throne, with his mother Placidia as regent. 
Valentinian was then six years of age, so this por- 
trait must have been executed within a year or two 
afterward. He grew up a dissolute, weak youth, leav- 
ing the reins of government to his mother, who held 
them amidst ever increasing anxieties and dangers, 
for twenty-five years. The Goths, the Vandals, and 
the Huns pressed her territories more firmly upon 
every side; and internal rebellions added to the con- 
stant ferment, Spain and Africa were lost, the north- 
ern provinces overrun. Amidst it all, Placidia's trou- 
bles were aggravated by the conduct of her daughter. 
This pure-eyed Honoria whom I looked upon, only 
four or five years later, at sixteen years of age, yielded 
to the illicit love of the chamberlain Eugenius; upon 
its discovery the shame of the royal family became 
published to all the world, and Honoria was imprisoned 
for fourteen years in the Court of Constantinople. 
At last in despair she made secret advances to Attila, 
King of the Huns, who had once desired her; upon the 
discovery of this offense she was returned in horror to 
Italy, and *'the ceremony of marriage was performed 
with some obscure and nominal husband, before she 
was immured in a perpetual prison."^ Attila again 
demanded her as his bride; and she would eventually 
have been given up to him, for the safety of Italy, 
had he not suddenly expired in the arms of a new addi- 

^ Gibbon, vol. ni, chap. xxxv. 



462 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

tion to his countless wives, — just as Honoria was 
about to be taken from her prison. She therefore occu- 
pied it until her death. 

Placidia died in 450, worn out by all her sorrows 
and anxieties, leaving Italy to the hands of the worth- 
less Valentinian, who hurried the country to its doom. 
Incapable of gratitude or forethought, he murdered 
with his own hand, out of jealousy, the only man who 
could have preserved his kingdom from the encroach- 
ing barbarians, and who had acted as such preserver 
for twenty years, — his general, Aetius. This deed he 
followed with the violation of the wife of the promin- 
ent Senator, Maximus. The latter took his revenge; 
and only five years after Placidia's death her son fell 
under the swords of assassins, leaving Rome to the ter- 
rible sack of Genseric and the Vandals, three months 
later. Such was the miserable fate of these innocent 
children that I gazed upon. 

I turned my eyes to the examination of the other 
exhibits. There were handsome faience and majolica, 
statuettes, bronzes, Venetian glass and enamel, medal- 
lions and coins, niello work and Limoges enamel, 
marble sculpture and reliefs, — every sort of artistic 
workmanship, of the medieval and Early-Renaissance 
eras; perhaps most pleasing of all to me were the 
ivory carvings, of that delicacy and quaint grace in 
ivhich the Late-Roman and Middle Ages excelled. 
Amongst these was prominent the so-called "Lip- 
sanoteca," a cross-shaped reliquary of the fourth 
century, covered with remarkably lifelike figures, well 
disposed in natural, easy, dramatic action; also, the 
three extraordinary diptychs, — one of the fourth 
century (the "Querinianum"), with figures of truly 
wonderful modeling and beauty, and two of the sixth 
century (the "Boethius" and " Lampadius ") , of 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 463 

which the former showed much decadence, and the 
latter was almost crude. 

From the choir, — near a cinquecento lecturn of 
beautiful carving and tarsia, and a long case laden 
with medieval choirbooks having exquisite minia- 
tures, — I had looked through a barred opening next 
the floor, into a much lower stone hall with rows of 
ancient columns. On now descending a flight of stairs, 
this hall proved to be the nave of S. Salvatore. The 
eighth-century structure of King Desiderius had been 
recently restored from a crumbling condition, leaving 
the old Roman columns where they had been, five ou 
one side and seven on the other, diverse in size and 
shape and capitals. After S. Michele of Pavia, this is 
the oldest standing church of the Lombards in its 
original state. In the end wall opened a low recess 
that once contained the high-altar; and under this lay 
a crypt containing more ancient columns, thirty-six 
in number, smaller than those above, but quite ridicu- 
lously variegated, and set astonishingly close together. 
I observed some neglected, decaying frescoes here: 
to the right in the antechamber, several by Romanino, 
mostly destroyed ; on the entrance wall of the nave and 
in a denuded chapel to the left, a number by Foppa 
and his pupils, — including some charming scattered 
angels here and there, flying aimlessly, and a Cruci- 
fixion of superior grace and quality. To the right 
opened another little, dark, bare room, in which I stood 
for a while gazing with an unavoidable feeling of sad- 
ness at a slab in its flagged floor; for under that had 
once been laid to rest, so long ago as to be almost 
entirely forgotten, that unfortunate woman. Desid- 
erata (also called Ermengarda), the sister of Ansil- 
perga the first Abbess, and the daughter of Desiderius, 
the last Lombard King, who consented to be a sacrifice 



464 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

to save her country, but was spurned and sent home 
again by Charlemagne.^ The war then resulted which 
ended in the destruction of her father's realm. How 
near it was all brought by this physical contact; what 
a dreary, desolated resting-place was this for the wife 
of Charlemagne, — but yet how consonant with the 
dissolution of her family and race! 

The last of the three convent churches now drew 
my attention, — S. Maria del Solario, whose fagade 
of the twelfth century proved to be most extraordin- 
ary: it was built of huge Roman blocks taken from 
ancient edifices, as the fragmentary Latin inscriptions 
showed; and the lofty bare wall was pierced only with 
a left-hand doorway and two tiny barred windows on 
the ground story, and two larger but simple windows 
on the second story. The only ornamentation was a 
Lombard frieze and string-course; and at the top rose 
a Romanesque octagonal drum, having a colonnaded 
window of six lights in its front side. The custodian 
of the museum, who kept also the key to this church, 
and had therefore accompanied me, now extended the 
information that the prison-like openings of the ground 
floor formerly gave light to the convent's treasure- 
chamber, and that the church was upon the floor 
above. 

We entered and ascended the old worn stairs, while 
I reflected 'how strange it felt to be climbing to a 
church located like a bedchamber. Its interior was 
still stranger: square in shape, of medium size, with its 
plastered walls broken only by three round arches on 
the east side, for altars, and by the two little windows 
on the south side, and covered overhead with a wide 

^ The reason for this famous divorce, though ascribed by several of the 
old chroniclers to the physical condition of the unfortunate woman, has 
ever been shrouded in a peculiar mystery. 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 465 

flat dome, — it yet gleamed and flashed with a thou- 
sand bright tints radiating from every wall and arch- 
way, which moved with countless vivid, life-size fig- 
ures, arranged in groups and large scenes, from New 
Testament history. The effect to a stranger entering 
was startling. These frescoes, said the custode, were 
the work of Bernardino Luini, the Milanese, and his 
followers, between 1513 and 1518; and the graceful 
figures, so remarkably preserved in the freshness of 
their gay coloring, bore out the statement with their 
Leonardesque faces. Yet the absence of any genius, 
or even high ability, indicated that if Luini took the 
contract, and made the designs, the brushwork must 
have been entirely by his pupils. 

The three altar-recesses contained two groups of 
Madonna and Saints, and a group of monks; over 
them was a large Crucifixion, of superior quality; on 
the left wall, below, were four panels from the life of 
S. Giulia, and above them, a huge Last Supper; the 
right wail, from bottom to top, held a group of saints, 
a Conversion of St. Paul, and Christ bearing the Cross. 
All the pictures were principally distinguished for 
their strong free spacing, and their graceful figures, 
draped finely in garments of striking hue; being thus 
very decorative, — though neither dramatic nor of 
much feeling. My thoughts turned involuntarily upon 
the twenty generations of sombre nuns that had wor- 
shiped in this chamber, — until Napoleon suppressed 
the convent in 1797; and upon the countenances of 
lofty rank that had been hidden behind all those com- 
mon veils. Seven queens had been among them, and 
one hundred and nine princesses; while the rest had 
been daughters of the highest nobility. Yet their life 
was not hard, for they had to wait upon them numer- 
ous humble serving women of the lay-sister class. 



466 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Another walk througli this eastern quarter took me 
jQrst to the Church of S. Clemen te, a little to the south 
of Piazza del Museo, facing north upon a narrow lane 
named after it. The fagade was one of those Late- 
Renaissance, stucco creations, with stone trimmings; 
the interior was a dark basilica without aisles or tran- 
sept, but with a large chapel at the end, whence 
Moretto's great canvas of Madonna and Saints glowed 
down from the high-altar with a brilliancy that dis- 
pelled the gloom; and from the side altars glistened, 
in beautiful tones, four other Moretto masterpieces, 
— which join in making the place a monument to his 
genius. I know but few other churches so entirely 
given over to the glory of a single artist of the first rank. 

On the first altar to the left stood the remarkable 
picture of St. Ursula and her Virgins, of life-size, — 
the lovely form of the saint in the centre, holding in 
one hand the banner of the Church, a crown of gold 
and jewels upon her head, her eyes directed sadly but 
sweetly to the danger concealed upon the right; it is 
a scene of brighter tone and stronger lighting than was 
usual with Moretto. Over the second altar I saw the 
Madonna "with Saints Catherine of Siena and Cather- 
ine of Alexandria, seated aloft upon a high stone altar 
draped with a handsome rug, and Saints Jerome and 
Paul standing below, — the scene darkly toned, the 
colors faded, the lustre lingering only in the silken 
sheen of the Madonna's light blue robe, and the chief 
beauty resting in her charming, expressive face. Over 
the third altar I observed Christ in glory with the 
Cross, and Abraham and Melchizedek below, the priest 
handing the warrior bread and wine ; these forms were 
also life-size and powerful ; and in the dark gray tone, 
without light or color, the strongly modeled figure 
of the Christ looked very melancholy. 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 467 

Opposite on the right side, over the second altar, 
glowed Moretto's famous composition of Saints 
Cecilia, Agnes, Agatha, Lucia, and Barbara, — five 
rounded female figures, taken from the same model, 
of exquisite grace and pensiveness, very naturally 
composed; again, however, the coloring was lost, and 
the tone gray and cold, without effective background. 
The greatest work of them all was the high-altar piece, 
of the Madonna in glory above three standing male 
saints, and two female saints seated at the lower cor- 
ners, within an architectural hemicycle, — the Ma- 
donna carrying her Child and surrounded by putti; 
a most brightly hued, luminous, and blissful scene, 
with effective light and shadow, grace of form and 
arrangement, and an expression of deep feeling. 

From this church I passed to another two blocks 
farther east, S. Maria Calchera, containing important 
examples of both of Brescia's great masters, — behind 
a stucco fagade of rococo ugliness. The interior was 
also rococo, overladen with offensive stucco ornament- 
ation, — a nave of two domes without aisles or tran- 
sept, having stucco pilasters rising between the side 
altars, to a very rich cornice, with the only light com- 
ing dimly from top windows on the right. Over the 
first altar to the left stood Moretto's wonderful picture 
of Christ at dinner with Simon, and Mary bathing his 
feet, — of great naturalness in the persons, postures, 
expressions, and accessories, in a dusky atmosphere 
and dim light; though the colors again had faded, the 
deep feeling in Mary's agonized, penitent face and 
Christ's benevolent, Jewish features, together with the 
realism of the garments, table, and in fact the whole 
setting, made an appeal of profound emotion. 

Second to the right was a Romanino of best quality, 
St. ApoUonius blessing the Host, between four persons 



468 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

on each side, two kneeling, all richly clothed in green 
and gold, and executed with pleasing flesh-work and 
accessories; the saint, facing outward, was backed by 
a low altar carrying a painting of the Pieta, which was 
cleverly differentiated from the reality. In a little 
chapel on the right I found another, small Moretto, — 
the dead Christ on his tomb, at the foot of the Cross, 
with Saints Dorothea and Jerome kneeling by it; 
much damaged, but still full of grace and sentiment. 
Behind the high-altar rose a Visitation, of life-size, 
containing a number of spectators watching the per- 
formance, including a charming Brescian girl in 
cinquecento costume; this was one of the canvases 
painted for Brescia by Calisto Piazza of Lodi, during 
a visit of some duration. 

The street running along the northern side of this 
church, Via Trieste, is the main thoroughfare of the 
eastern section, extending from Piazza del Duomo to 
the sole eastern gate. Porta Venezia. As I followed 
it eastward, it soon opened on the left into the vast 
Mercato Nuovo, whose tree-lined, sunny quadrangle, 
then deserted, is regularly crowded by the stalls of 
produce ^tnd herds of animals. Another block to the 
east opened the Mercato dei Grani, just within the 
gate, in whose centre loomed Brescia's modern monu- 
ment to her great son of long ago, — Arnold the Free- 
thinker. Upon a handsome, two-storied pedestal of 
stone, faced with four remarkable bronze tablets, 
showing dramatic scenes from the friar's life in high- 
relief, — rose his heroic bronze figure in the attitude 
of preaching. To the left of it was a tiny park, upon 
the embankment of the old city wall, from which were 
visible the picturesque green hillsides stretching to 
north and east from their adjacent angle, covered 
richly with vineyards and lines of cypresses, dotted 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 469 

with glistening villas in hues of pink, brown, white, 
and yellow. Outside the gate, an avenue of splendid 
horse-chestnut trees extended straightaway to the far 
southeast, its hard white road lined on one side by a 
steam tramway, — the highway to Verona, the famous, 
ancient Via Subalpina. 

Turning back along the Corso Magenta for a way, 
and then southward along the Via Arsenale, which 
runs from Piazza del Museo, I reached the Piazza 
Moretto in the southeastern corner of the city, — 
so called from the modern bronze monument to the 
master in its centre. It is a striking work: at the foot 
of a high white-granite pedestal sits the bronze female 
figure of Fame, reading her book, and on the top stands 
Moretto, in cinquecento long-hose, doublet, cloak, and 
velvet cap, — a handsome figure, of heroic size, with 
palette in one hand and brush in the other. It has a fit 
location: for directly behind stands the large Palazzo 
Martinengo, containing the city's picture-gallery of 
the same name; the palace was devised for that pur- 
pose by the Count's will in 1887, — a noble life ending 
with a noble deed.^ On the piazza's south side rises 
the Church of S. Afra, facing westward upon the street 
with a front of ugly stucco. 

S. Afra is renowned in Brescia for its curious con- 
struction — a later church upon an early one — and 
for its paintings of the Venetian school. A double 
flight of steps ascends some eight feet to the portal, 

^ "Moretto," says Countess Evelyn Martinengo-Cesaresco, in her Zom- 
hard Studies, "did a great deal of work for different members of the family, 
and decorated several of their houses. The Palazzo Martinengo della 
Fabbrica [also at Brescia] contains frescoes by him, showing eight fair 
daughters of a Count Martinengo with their favorite dogs." These fres- 
coes, covering the four sides of one large room, are beautiful beyond words; 
their backgrounds filled with exquisite landscapes of flowered parterres 
and castled hills, before which sit the lovely girls, on marble parapets 
draped with Oriental rugs. 



470 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

under whose landing a barred window permits one 
a sight of the dusky, columned, lower edifice, like a 
cellar. It is over a thousand years old; the upper edi- 
fice was built in 1580, and I found it, therefore, of fair 
Renaissance lines, the nave bordered by Renaissance 
pillars and arches, which divided off the aisles. But 
the immediate impression came from the vast crowd 
of frescoes that glistened from the sides of the pil- 
lars, the sides and soffits of the arches, the wall spaces, 
and the ceiling, — innumerable designs of arabesques, 
intertwined with musical instruments, and pink putti 
scrambling up and down the pillars, also interspersed 
with figured scenes in panels; the colors, though much 
faded, still showing a hundred gay tints, that fairly 
showered down from every side. 

Over the second altar to the left, affixed to the wall 
of the aisle, glowed one of Paolo Veronese's rich com- 
binations of color, — a Martyrdom of S. Afra: upon a 
platform amidst an eager crowd of people, backed by 
classic buildings, kneeled the saint in an incongruous 
ball-dress of white satin, heavily embroidered, — a 
lovely form, with uplifted, rapt expression on the vir- 
ginal face* which strongly contrasted with the dark, 
rough executioner who seized her. Behind the high- 
altar hung a most extraordinary Tintoretto, of glisten- 
ing blue tone and flooded light from an open sky, 
in which Christ was ascending between Moses and 
Elijah, borne upwards by fluttering putti, — while the 
three apostles were visible below on the mountain- 
top, amazed and fearful; the garments were bright- 
hued, and between the two groups rolled the light-blue 
clouds, shot with glittering sunrays. Who would have 
dreamt that this could have been painted by the som- 
bre master of darkness and shadow, who composed 
the dusky canvases of the Scuola S. Rocco, who filled 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 471 

all Venice with his gloomy, tragic pictures, — who 
was the apostle of uncolored realism and the drama, 
opposed to the beauty of gay hues. This very paint- 
ing of his own hands gainsays his creed: in spite of its 
flood of light and bright colors, it is dramatic, power- 
ful, impressive; while its loveliness strikes a chord of 
heavenly music. 

Over the south doorway, finally, hung Titian's 
splendid picture of the Woman taken in Adultery, — 
in half -figures, as so often with his designs; that of the 
Saviour being a great conception, full of beauty, mild- 
ness, and stern majesty commingled, a celestial power 
shining in his radiant face as He reproves the evil 
elders crowding round; the woman herself is very fair 
and penitent; there is a depth to the golden tone, the 
sumptuous coloring, and the atmosphere, that fills 
the scene with awe. — A sobbing startled me as I gazed, 
— a miserable, tearful sobbing, from a rent heart. I 
looked around, and in the shadows of the adjacent 
altar recess beheld dimly two aged peasant women, 
kneeling to a mummified corpse exposed behind a glass 
front; to this alleged relic of some saint they were 
mumbling beseeching prayers with outstretched 
hands, while tears fell down the furrowed cheeks and 
choked their utterance. Some deep disaster threat- 
ened them, — the note of it was in their cries. The 
solace of the Roman Church to such poor souls struck 
me with a new force; ignorant beyond our conception, 
correspondingly credulous, they would draw from the 
supposed powers of that body a comfort that no spirit- 
ual communion could give them, and go homeward 
with a new peace and hope. 

Westward from the Piazza Moretto the Via Moretto 
extends across the city, parallel with Corso Zanar- 
delli, on its south. Leaving my examination of the 



472 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

massed treasures of the Galleria Martinengo until I 
should have seen all the scattered paintings of the 
churches, I followed this street, so pleasantly named, 
to the Church of S. Alessandro at the next corner. It 
has a plain, stuccoed front, of Renaissance details in 
pilasters and cornice, a basilica-interior, with arched, 
ribbed ceiling painted yellow, and four altars recessed 
in each wall, separated by Corinthian three-quarter 
columns of roseate marble. It is remarkable for a fine 
specimen of that rare old master, Civerchio, on the 
second altar to the right, — a Pieta upon wood, some- 
what faded, but still of warm tone and atmosphere, 
with ungraceful figures possessing the artist's peculiar 
charm and expressiveness. The Madonna holds her 
dead Son, the Magdalen his feet, and roundabout 
stand Saints Paul, Michael, and another, backed by 
the Cross-laden hill of Calvary. Hare claims this to 
be an Umbrian work. But the predelle are unmistak- 
ably Civerchio's, showing scenes from the Passion and 
the Resurrection which are of high finish and strongly 
spaced, effective grouping, with wide landscapes of 
excellent perspective, and delightful, warm coloring. 

Adjaceiit, first on the right, I observed another 
pleasing quattrocento work, a beautiful Annunciation 
by Frate Michelangiolo da Piacenza, in an exquisite 
Gothic frame; the minute and loving care of the min- 
iaturist was visible in the fine texture, pattern, and 
embroidery of the robes of cloth-of-gold. Five still 
earlier pictures, by another hand, covered the predelle, 
— very charming scenes, from the life of the Virgin, 
of distinguished ability for the period. Fourth on the 
same side was a strong pala by Gambara, of the man- 
acled Christ crowned with thorns, with a bended head 
of noble, harrowing expression; and under it was a 
very graceful little marble Pietd, in relief, endowed 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 473 

with much sentiment, by an unknown artist of the 
same period. 

Two blocks to the north of this and half a block to 
the east, I found the Palazzo Tosio, — another noble 
mansion devised some time ago to the city, with its 
comprehensive collections of art, but now of compar- 
atively little interest on account of the removal of its 
Old Masters to the Galleria Martinengo. The marbles 
of first rank were also transferred. I was shown over a 
large suite of rooms on the piano nobile, handsomely 
decorated in Late-Renaissance styles, containing mod- 
ern paintings and sculptures; among those ornamented 
in white-and-gold were a curious hall at the west end, 
lighted only from a sky-light, adorned with white 
Doric columns, having its walls entirely covered with 
little landscapes, — some of them very good; and an 
oval chamber near by, very tasteful and pretty, con- 
taining two large, blue Sevres vases, edged with gold, 
which were given by Napoleon III to Count Tosio; 
these were unusually interesting, because painted on 
their sides with excellent likenesses of the Emperor 
and his lovely young bride, Eugenie. 

Opposite this palace, at number 19, I had through 
an open gateway a delicious vision of the long-gone 
past : down a luxuriant green vista of shrubs and trees, 
and over a high brick wall, I saw a beautiful old 
Gothic colonnade, with one of its arches crowned by a 
marble goddess; and there, above the shady greenery 
of the garden, two persons were walking, — gray- 
haired tutor and handsome youth, arguing some re- 
condite point, looking as if they had stepped from a 
page of Boccaccio. 

In visiting the west side of the city I divided it into 
two parts, — the first south of Corso Palestra, con- 
taining three important churches close together, the 



474 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

second north of the Corso, containing palaces of in- 
terest as well as churches. The latter walk I took first, 
starting from the Corso up Via Dolzani, the continua- 
tion of Corso Vittorio Emanuele. Here I came im- 
mediately to Palazzo Masperi, another former resi- 
dence of the Martinengo family, celebrated as the 
most striking private palace in Brescia. It is a nar- 
row, three-storied Renaissance structure, covered with 
exuberant decoration like an edifice of fairyland, — 
sculptured door-jambs and cornices, beautiful triple 
windows, side windows with baroque cornices, a richly 
carved balcony, an elaborate string-course, and above 
all, a wonderful sculptured frieze, of arabesques with 
gamboling amorini. 

A little to the west, in the adjacent Via del Palazzo 
Vecchio, I passed another famous old Brescian man- 
sion, the Palazzo Calzavellio, — its vast stuccoed 
fagade containing a splendid Renaissance doorway, 
in a frame of fluted Corinthian pilasters, with a hand- 
some double-window above it, heavy marble balconies, 
and faint traces of extensive frescoes that once cov- 
ered the wide spaces between the windows. Such a 
construction was designed for the frescoes, — with a 
broad painted frieze above them. Close by on the 
opposite side was a fine example of the modernized 
Renaissance palace, with rebuilt, imposing portal and 
corniced windows ; and at the angle of the next street- 
crossing, loomed another huge, stuccoed palazzo, with 
a Renaissance balcony of enormous dimensions. It is 
an unceasing wonder, what a modern, small family 
can do with these giant residences; in large part, as a 
fact, they showed evidences of being deserted. 

Northward up the Via della Pace from this corner, 
past a gigantic, brick church-fagade with a great stone 
portal, and another vast palace, of rococo design, I 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 475 

reached, at the angle with the Corso Garibaldi, the 
strange stone tower called the Torre della Pallata, 
which is visible from all over the city. It is square in 
shape, about fifty feet thick, built of heavy stone 
blocks, with buttresses at the corners and giant bat- 
tlements on the lofty summit, — as curious a relic of 
medieval days as could be found anywhere. Some of 
the blocks in the spreading base measure four feet by 
two; the west side of it is decorated with a large 
ornamental fountain of baroque style, sporting a 
Triton blowing twin trumpets, some reclining divini- 
ties, and a Goddess of Plenty seated at the top. 

The broad thoroughfare of Corso Garibaldi evenly 
bisects the western part of the city, running from 
Piazza del Comune to the only western gate, in the 
centre of the western wall, — Porta Milano ; the Torre 
della Pallata stands just halfway between those ex- 
tremities. Proceeding westward now upon the Corso, 

— which is quite modern in appearance and business, 

— and passing a fine Palladian stone palace upon the 
right, containing a grand, columned loggia of two sto- 
ries, — I came eventually to a wide piazza before the 
Porta Milano, having an old bastion of the city wall 
upon the south. The present gate consisted of two 
square low buildings with Doric porticoes, guarding 
the street where it crossed, by a modern bridge, the 
medieval fosse. In the piazza rose an equestrian 
bronze statue of the Liberator, with a superb bronze 
lion at bay on the front of the pedestal. 

One block to the northeast, upon the Via S. Rocco, 
which parallels Corso Garibaldi, I found the interest- 
ing Church of S. Maria delle Grazie. In its plain 
stuccoed facade there was an earlier Gothic portal, 
with almost indistinguishable, antique lions, and a 
quattrocento relief of Madonna and Saints in the 



476 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

lunette. Entering by anbther doorway at the left, 
I stood, to my surprise, in a delightful Early-Renais- 
sance cloister, at the side of the church, consisting of 
two little paved courts, divided and surrounded by 
colonnades. A door in its left corridor opened into a 
modern pilgrimage sanctuary; and the walls of all the 
corridors were hung with the quaint gifts of success- 
ful pilgrims, mostly rude pictures of scenes of sickness, 
accident, and healing, harrowing in their effect. 

The dark sanctuary, gleaming faintly with burning 
lamps swung from chains, consisted of a three-sided 
gallery inclosing a lower shrine, which contained the 
altar with the saintly relics; alternate pillars and col- 
umns, fluted and spiral, with inset colored marbles, 
sustained the rounded arches of the gallery; under 
the latter hung the lamps, diffusing a deep golden 
glamour upon the successive frescoes of the outer wall. 
These, though modern, were designed and softly tinted 
in trecento style, with gilded figures outlined against 
dusky backgrounds. The gilding and coloring, the 
richly veined marble on every side, the incense-laden 
dusk, the golden lamplight, all combined to produce 
that exotic, Oriental effect, which appeals so strongly 
to the sensuous nature of the Italians, and instantly 
strikes the chords of their religious emotions. The 
priests could devise no more successful means for 
impressing the credulous devotees, and drawing the 
silver from their pockets. 

A side-doorway from the cloister admitted me to the 
church, which was as dark and curious as the sanctuary; 
the low-arched nave was flanked by columns, and still 
lower aisles, having a flat dome above each bay of the 
latter, and altars affixed directly to the walls; and over 
every foot of surface rioted an awful scheme of stucco 
reliefs, twisting over the vaulting, walls, arches, and 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 477 

domes, — forced upon the attention by a barbaric gild- 
ing. The vulgar effect was enhanced by the plaster 
material of the arches and capitals, the common 
black cloths draped around the columns and hang- 
ing between them, edged with tinsel gilt fringe, and 
the horrible scroll-like shields of arms attached to the 
cloths, painted in gaudy gold and silver. Much as I 
had seen of this vile sort of "decoration," this before 
me was the worst yet found. I gladly turned away to 
the pictures. 

The best of them were a Foppa, of Madonna and 
Saints, on the first altar to the left, — faded, dark 
and colorless; and two Morettos, over the high altar 
and in the chapel to the right of it. The first of the 
latter, a Nativity, it was very difficult to observe; it 
seemed to be different from the master's usual style, 
with many figures in confused activity; the second 
was most attractive, — a Madonna in glory, with 
saints below, in a strange, rich, dark tone, from which 
the three saints stood forth bathed in a silvery light, 
splendidly portrayed, with a fine combination of vivid 
realism, graceful dignity, and restful peace. 

Continuing eastward along Via S. Rocco, I passed 
on the left a palace with clear remains of cinquecento 
frescoes, in many large panels, having figures of the 
customary reddish-brown tint; — and finally reached, 
just to the right in a side way, the renowned old 
Church of S. Giovanni Evangelista. Its fagade of 
rough brickwork held a simple Renaissance stone 
portal ; its dusky interior consisted of a nave and aisles, 
— separated by piers faced with Corinthian half- 
columns, upholding a plain cornice, with connecting 
round arches, — and a large choir flanked by chapels. 
The side chapels held some remarkable paintings: 
a very beautiful Francia, — the Trinity adored by 



478 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

angels, first to the left, considered one of his few best 
works; a Wedding of the Virgin by Romanino, fourth 
on the left; and Moretto's animated Massacre of the 
Innocents, third on the right, which is a harmony of 
golden browns and light blues, in his "silvery" tone. 
There was a second fine Moretto, in a magnificent 
Renaissance frame behind the high-altar, — repre- 
senting God the Father, the Madonna in clouds sur- 
rounded by putti, and four saints below in a sunset 
after-glow, — altogether of a dark tone and yet lumin- 
ous beauty; and finally, there were the treasures of 
the wonderful Cappella Corpus Domini, at the end 
of the left aisle, — a precious shrine of Brescian art, 
painted by Moretto and Romanino together. 

Here was Civerchio's great Entombment, in a most 
exquisitely carved and gilded Renaissance frame over 
the altar, revealing at a glance the profound genius of 
that master, — noble in conception, execution, action, 
lifelikeness, and tender emotion. The Maries and the 
Apostles are letting down the dead Saviour into the 
sepulchre, slowly, gently, with heart-rending grief. — 
On the right wall are five powerful Morettos: Elijah 
in a dark" and terrible wilderness, with an attending 
angel of superhuman loveliness; the Israelites collect- 
ing manna; portrait figures of St. Mark and St. Luke; 
and one of the grandest Last Suppers in existence, 
superb in natural modeling, atmosphere, and tense 
dramatic expression, — wanting only in the weakness 
of the Christ. The sternness of these early works is 
said to be due to Romanino's influence. Over them, 
on the soffits of the side arch, Moretto also painted 
six prophets. 

The rest are Romanino's works: five correspond- 
ing pictures on the opposite wall, six prophets above 
them, and a beautiful Coronation of the Virgin in 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 479 

the lunette over the altar, which is strongly com- 
posed and drawn, with much majesty, grace, and indi- 
vidual charm. This was my first revelation of his full 
powers. His side paintings are less attractive: a Re- 
surrection of Lazarus, Mary Magdalen before Christ, 
Saints John and Matthew, and a family worshiping the 
Sacrament. But altogether this little chapel contains 
a glory of great brushwork, seldom equaled outside 
of museums. 

There remained one more large church in this quar- 
ter, S. Maria del Carmine, a block and a half to the 
north; but my visit to it did not require much time. 
The only beauty in its rough brick fagade was a 
curious marble portal, flanked with Renaissance col- 
umns but recessed in Gothic fashion; the former 
fresco in its lunette by Ferramola had disappeared. 
Its lofty, spacious, bare interior — of nave and aisles 
separated by stucco pillars, with Romanesque capi- 
tals and round arches — contained no longer any 
treasure of art. Foppa's ceiling-painting had also 
lost all its value. Upon the walls and vaulting were 
the ruined frescoes and the lingering remnants of 
the arabesques, that once covered them from end to 
end; and at the termination of the left aisle stood a 
strange Calvary of painted plaster, in a cave dimly 
lamplit, with life-size, mouthing figures. The apse wall 
held a superb Renaissance frame, containing a badly 
injured Annunciation, with a still lovely Madonna. 
In all this ruin and echoing desolation 

I felt like one who treads alone 

Some banquet-hall deserted, 

Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead. 

And all but he departed. 

As I strolled back to the hotel, I noticed some wine- 
presses being operated in the street that were of 



480 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

modern, mechanical make: a tub with a piston-cover 
thrust downward by a screw, squeezing the juice out 
of apertures at the bottom. Placed upon hand-carts, 
they were being hauled from house to house, to press 
each family's grapes at its own door; and the liquid 
ran over the sides, along the gutters, staining them 
red, — like Dickens's Paris of the Revolution. In 
Verona (for it was now October) I had observed the 
general use of the old-fashioned vats, likewise dragged 
around upon carts, with ragged youths dancing bare- 
foot upon the grapes. Chestnut roasters also now filled 
the streets with their little charcoal ovens, radiating 
appetizing odors; and venders of raw chestnuts and 
walnuts spread their wares in piles, to dry, on strips 
of canvas along the curb. 

In the evening I usually repaired for my after-dinner 
coffee to the caffes under the arcades across the way 
from the hotel, which are frequented by the Brescian 
elite, and enlivened by the strains of a large orchestra. 
Many of the company played cards regularly, with 
those pasteboards so strange to Anglo-Saxon eyes, 
upon which the suits are swords, sceptres, dies, etc., 
and theroj'alties are creatures unrecognizable. So fond 
are the people of music, that on coming out I never 
failed to find a large crowd blocking the wide street, 
listening in rapt silence to the orchestra within. Inter- 
spersed between the caffes were the new features of 
North Italian life, — American bars, in little rooms 
where the beverages are taken standing, at cheaper 
prices and without the necessity of tips; the drinks, 
however, are as light as elsewhere, being coffee, na- 
tive wines, beer, syrups, liqueurs, vermouth, bitters, 
and various French and domestic appetizers and 
aperitifs, of weird appearance and taste, but little 
strength; only now and then is a glass of absinthe or 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 481 

cognac sold, for the natives have no Hking for strong 
spirits. 

Besides the several theatres roundabout, including 
the opera-house, there were also half a dozen cine- 
matograph shows, at which I passed an occasional 
evening, and which were invariably crowded. Such 
was the extent of the Brescians' dissipation. The 
Corso Zanardelli, which they thought very cosmo- 
politan in its arc-lights and few electric illumina- 
tions, was already by eleven o'clock nearly deserted; 
and before midnight the whole town was asleep. It 
still exhibits all the old provincial peculiarities. The 
shops, invariably little, are confined each to a sur- 
prisingly narrow line; if one wishes to procure some 
pins, he must, as elsewhere, hunt up the one place 
where they are sold. Advertising is unheard of, or 
any effort to increase trade. The little newspapers (?), 
of two or four small sheets, contain very slight news 
indeed of the outside world, and what there is, is gen- 
erally copied from foreign journals and several days 
old; their contents consist mainly of local happenings, 
articles and letters written by ambitious local literati, 
and poetic effusions. All speeches upon any occasion 
whatsoever are carefully reported in full, and fulsome 
obituary notices are a specialty. These last are also 
posted all about the city, — together with notices and 
addresses to the citizens, of every sort and subject. 
One becomes accustomed to being startled by poster- 
headings in large black letters, — "Citizens! Atten- 
tion .' " — or "Beware ! Fellow Citizens ! ' ' Every local 
event, every election, every patriotic anniversary, is 
preceded by a veritable war of placards between the 
opposing parties. 

When Ferrer was shot at Barcelona, the indignation 
of the Socialistic masses broke out violently in North 



482 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Italy; the people filled this streets with noisy groups, 
and fierce posters cried in mourning-black: "Lavora- 
tori! — In segno di protesto contro 1' assassinio di 
Francesco Ferrer! commesso dalla feroce reazione ges- 
uitica spagnuola, poiche il lutto e di tutte le nazioni 
civili, di tutti i popoli liberi che detestano le inf amie 
del dogma, Noi Vi Invitiamo — ad astenervi dal lavoro 
nel pomeriggio di quest' oggi! [Signed] La Commis- 
sione Esecutiva della Camera del Lavoro." ^ 

And they did abstain from labor; the workmen 
marched through the streets in a great procession, with 
gloomy, defiant brows, shouting hoarsely for liberty: 
"Down with the priests! Down with the Jesuits!" 
— while the police accompanied them in nervous fear, 
dreading every moment an attack upon the churches. 
It was another demonstration of the ever increasing 
Socialistic fervor of the Italian masses, — which will 
end, who knows where? 

Certainly this country is, in freedom of the person, 
speech, and press, in the sacredness of property-rights, 
in all that appertains to liberty, and popular rule, very 
far advanced over Austria, — which is hated the more 
for that TTery reason, — and in fact over all the Euro- 
pean countries save France, the Lowlands, and Scan- 
dinavia. Nowhere in the world, not even in England, 
is there such general order, and absence of crimes upon 
property and of premeditated violence, as in the Italy 
of to-day. Burglary and highway robbery, for in- 
stance, are now practically unknown. Nowhere in 
the world is the person so perfectly safe, — if we omit 

^ "Workmen! — In sign of protest against the assassination of Fran- 
cesco Ferrer, committed by the ferocious Jesuitical reaction of the Span- 
iards, since the grief is shared by all the civilized nations, by all free peo- 
ples who detest the infamy of dogmatism. We invite You — to abstain from 
work this afternoon! (Signed) The Executive Committee of the Chamber 
of Labor." , 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 483 

southern Italy, with its violence proceeding from pas- 
sion. There is nothing more for the people to desire 
unless it be a moderation of the too heavy taxes, or a 
republican form of government; but the House of 
Savoy has been too great a benefactor, — the King 
is too noble, beloved, and thoroughly democratic in 
his benevolence, to be placed on one side. 

One morning I started out to visit the trio of south- 
western churches, by taking a tramcar at the next 
corner, which traversed the Corsos Palestra and Vit- 
torio Emanuele to the station. The Brescian tram- 
ways are quite like those of the other smaller cities, 
— having little cars run by electric trolleys, and di- 
vided by partitions into first- and second-class com- 
partments; the fares are graduated according to the 
class and distance, varying from two to ^vesoldi,^ — 
the most satisfactory of all methods; the cars do not 
stop at every corner, but at certain equidistant points 
marked by signboards, upon hail; and the passenger is 
always furnished with a ticket upon paying, which he 
is required to keep in sight, and which not only identi- 
fies his payment but also the place at which he should 
descend. Furthermore, the stubs of the tickets when 
returned to the company's office constitute an effect- 
ual check upon the money received by the guards, 
and render stealing impossible, — a safeguard which 
American tramways have long vainly sought. 

At Via S. Nazzaro, halfway to the gate, I descended 
and walked a block to the west, reaching at the ad- 
jacent corner the huge mass of SS. Nazzaro e Celso. 
It is rather a modern church (1780), with a classic 
stucco fagade, adorned by full-length, Corinthian 
half -columns, a heavy cornice, and a gable surmounted 

^ A soldo is practically equivalent to an American cent, or an English 
halfpenny. 



484 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

by half a dozen Berniniesque plaster statues. The 
interior proved to be a spacious Renaissance basilica, 
with an atrium separated from the nave by four mass- 
ive Corinthian columns, shallow side chapels divided 
by similar half-columns, and a slightly elevated choir 
of the same width. From the apse wall a great canvas 
by Titian radiated its refulgent glory over the whole 
edifice, supplementing its pure, cold lines. 

The atrium contained over the side entrances two 
large works of Vincenzo Foppa, the scourging and 
the beheading of Saints Nazzaro and Celso, of fairly 
good anatomy and expression, but otherwise not at- 
tractive; another Foppa, that once graced the organ 
doors, lay in the sacristy, — an Annunciation, with 
a Madonna of much sentiment. The Titian is a panel- 
piece of five sections, in his wonderful warm tone and 
golden light and flesh-work, of grand modeling and 
lifelikeness, and exceeding grace; around the central 
panel, of the Resurrection, are placed the separate 
figures of St. George, Messer Averoldo the donor, and 
St. Sebastian, — the latter form remarkable for its 
solidity and writhing anguish (instead of the usual 
absurd complacency) ; — and above them is a lovely 
Annunciation with very noble forms. 

Besides this work the church is renowned for four 
superb and priceless Morettos: a silvery Coronation 
of the Virgin, with four saints below, — a picture of 
striking figures, gracefully composed before a delight- 
ful landscape, but not so inspiring as tableaux of 
deeper tone "and color; a Christ in glory, surrounded 
by 'putti, with two saints below, — more golden in 
tone, but more crowded and disorderly; an Adoration 
of the Child, whose chiaroscuro is so profound as to 
leave visible only the shining Babe upon the ground, 
with the dusky, kneeling forms of the Madonna, 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 485 

Saints Nazzaro and Celso, St. Joseph, and several 
others, while a flock of putti are dimly outlined behind, 
— a charming scene, full of reverence, and happy, 
stray glints of light upon faces and armor; lastly, in 
the sacristy, a smaller Adoration upon wood, — of the 
same darkness, with the last gleams of sunset visible 
through a window, across distant mountains, — and 
another Annunciation, of much sweetness, in separate 
medallions at the sides. Adjacent hangs a Meeting of 
Joachim and Elizabeth, in Moretto's style and color- 
ing, and thought by many critics to be his product, 
though it is not certain. 

Almost opposite the fagade rises the large, preten- 
tious Palazzo Fe, a very baroque, stucco building of 
the same epoch. Returning to Corso Vittorio Eman- 
uele, and proceeding northward, I came quickly to the 
curious little Church of Madonna dei Miracoli. Its 
rich front of the Early-Renaissance holds a most ex- 
traordinary marble porch, — four advanced columns 
upon a parapet, upholding a very broad entablature 
topped by a curving gable, and all exquisitely carved 
with a wealth of minute traceries astonishing to be- 
hold; similarly carved are the faces of the four ad- 
jacent pilasters on the fagade proper; seldom is there 
to be found such a mass of beautiful, delicate detail. 

As the interior was of no importance, I kept on 
along the Corso, observing a fine Late-Renaissance 
palace on the opposite side, impressive from the heavi- 
ness of its columned window-frames and -cornices, sur- 
mounted by large globes and busts ; and turning to the 
left, I reached in a few paces the great Church of S. 
Francesco, which faces northward upon the Corso 
Palestra. This f agade is of the Gothic period, built of 
browned stone, having a simple portal, the remains of 
an interesting, Gothic, terra-cotta frieze, and a beauti- 



486 PLAIN TOWNS OF ITALY 

ful rose-window. The long, low, dark nave is flanked 
by columns with Doric capitals and rounded arches, 
and by aisles with chapels on the left side only. 

There are four first-class paintings here, including 
two of transcendent beauty : a Marriage of the Virgin 
by the rare Francesco da Prato, first altar to the left, 
— of fine golden tone and interior atmosphere, and a 
Virgin with all the loveliness and bashful grace which 
a bride should have; a detached fresco of the school of 
Giotto, under glass, second on the right, — a Pieta, of 
very deepest feeling, wonderful for its age; Moretto's 
renowned group of Saints Margaret, Jerome, and Fran- 
cis, standing in a portico with two putti hovering over- 
head, — a scene of celestial peace and beauty; and 
Romanino's sublime masterpiece of the Madonna and 
Saints, blazing from its magnificent carved frame be- 
hind the high-altar like a vision of heavenly glory. 
The lovely, throned Madonna, exquisitely moulded 
and poised, clad in a lustrous crimson robe, is holding 
to her breast the Holy Child, while charming 'putti 
flutter above; the Franciscan saints below are well- 
balanced, nobly drawn, and gracefully expressive, in 
the same gorgeous coloring; while the whole composi- 
tion is backed by a sky of seductive blueness. A richer 
glory of hues could not be found in all the Italian 
schools. It is "the most celebrated and most Palm- 
esque work of Romanino — grand in contrast of cowl 
and frock — but still more grand in contrast of look 
and expression." ^ 

I had now wandered long enough through city 
streets, and longed for a breath of the green nature 
ever visible on the castle hill. The direct ascent leads 
up from the little Piazza Tito Speri; the gradual one, 
taken by the tramway, makes a three-quarter circle 

^ Crowe and Cavalcaselle. 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 487 

beginning at the northwest corner. But I first fol- 
lowed a pleasant walk along the eastern flank, starting 
from the converted Church of S. Giulia, and passing 
immediately the very old, little edifice of S. Cristo, 
perched to the left at the top of a long, walled incline. 
I stopped to examine its curious fagade, constructed 
half of white Roman blocks, upon some of which ro- 
settes and other carvings could still be seen, and half 
of stucco, and containing a Gothic rose-window, also a 
Gothic frieze of terra-cotta plaques, glazed and col- 
ored; the interesting early portal, framed by marble 
pillars strangely cut with ancient reliefs of putti, 
shields, vases, etc., had a lintel of a single, now broken, 
stone, relieved with winged ^wi^i-heads, horns of plenty, 
and a half -figure of Christ, — the Pagan and Christian 
carvings thus being intermingled; while the lunette 
held an early fresco of two prettily tinted angels. 

The Via Gambara thence led me northward along 
the slope, gradually rising, between green gardens 
high upon the left and a charming little valley below 
on the right, until I reached a small park at the north- 
east shoulder of the hill, and at the angle of the city 
wall. This wall ascended the valley, turned here, and 
bore away westward along the top of the northern pre- 
cipice of the hill, amalgamating finally with the castle 
wall, frowning with towers. The paths of the little 
park climbed upon the embankment at its angle, and 
yielded pleasant views on every side; there were the 
beautiful neighboring hill-slopes again, cypress- and 
villa-crowned, the luxuriant plain, stretching south- 
east into the haze of distance, and the northern valley, 
once so fair, now belching smoke from a score of tall 
chimneys, whose broad factories sparkled with hun- 
dreds of windows. 

But in them were the wealth and happiness of the 



488 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Brescia of to-day, — a more joyful sight to the native 
than all the. landscapes of Eden. Into such manufac- 
turing has gone all the best and bluest blood of north- 
ern Italy, the nobles turning their hands and old for- 
tunes to a commerce no longer debasing, since it is the 
sole means of regenerating their country; and in con- 
sequence they are rebuilding the cities, and reaping for 
themselves new fortunes of a surprising size. Hence 
comes that unending stream of automobiles that cov- 
ers the plain and assails the Alps in summer, to the 
wonder of tourists, who know not that these modern 
Lombards have made incomes of a hundred thousand 
to five hundred thousand francs per year. 

Luigi Villari has well expressed this change: "The 
Lombard nobility is the most progressive section of 
the Italian upper classes, and the richest. It is of 
burgher origin, and . . . has taken the lead in the new 
industrial and commercial movement. . . . Many of 
the oldest names in the country are now connected 
with silk factories, engineering works, and banks. 
They are active, public-spirited, and exercise some 
political influence." And again: "A new type of late 
years has risen into prominence in Italian society, — 
the man of business. The old Italian commercial 
spirit has revived once more. — The typical uomo d' af- 
fari is generally a Piedmontese or a Lombard. He is a 
shrewd, intelligent person, educated perhaps in a Swiss 
or a German commercial college, speaking several 
languages, and ready on the spot whenever he sees a 
market for his wares." ^ 

Close by this corner stood the lonely church and 
monastery buildings of S. Pietro, surrounded by trees. 
The church had a peculiar f agade of stucco, painted in 
imitation of an elaborate, stone, architectural design, 

^ Luigi Villari, Italian Life in Town and Country. 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 489 

in which the real doorway and windows were given 
fanciful deep frames. The monastery wall contained 
a marble portal very prettily sculptured. I knocked 
at this, and was admitted by a lay porter to two con- 
nected Renaissance cloisters, the first containing a 
charming marble well-top. Of all the Olivetans that 
had walked and prayed here for centuries, but three 
or four now remained. Turning into the church, I 
found a handsome well-proportioned interior of gray 
sandstone, erected by Sansovino, — with niches for 
the side altars, divided by Corinthian pilasters inset 
with imitation verde-antique medallions; while some 
frescoes by Zoppo adorned the upper walls. 

After this walk I visited the Galleria Martinengo. 
Around its courtyard lie a number of ground-floor 
rooms, not shown unless demanded, containing the 
sculptures and casts from Palazzo Tosio; among them, 
Thorvaldsen's two very lovely plaques of Night and 
Day, Ferrari's powerful group after the Laocoon, Ba- 
ruzzi's exquisite Silvia, seated upon the ground tying 
her hair, Pampaloni's wonderful little praying girl, — 
childish, upturned, sincere and trustful, that has been 
so endlessly copied, — and some very pleasing plaster 
compositions by recent Lombard sculptors. Mount- 
ing the grand staircase, I came to the entrance hall of 
the picture gallery, hung with the earlier Brescian 
works; chief amongst them, Foppa's Last Supper, — 
with the apostles, for once, properly seated around the 
table, — and his lunette of Madonna and Child. 

Then I entered the main room, upon the north side, 
to be confronted at once by the masterpieces of the 
school, — a room hung solidly with great canvases, of 
wondrous glow and coloring. Moretto's works here 
are the grandest of his production, — including the 
celebrated St. Nicholas presenting children to the 



490 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Madonna, the Madonna with two infants in glory and 
four saints below, the Descent of the Holy Ghost, the 
Adoration of the Child, the Christ at Emmaus, and 
the St. Anthony enthroned; — all pictures of ideal 
pietistic loveliness and expression. They are almost 
entirely in his "silvery tone," illumined with soft and 
richly gleaming hues; and the handsome figures, per- 
fectly lifelike and gracefully posed, exhibit a full, 
warm, rounded flesh-work which adds exceedingly to 
the beauties of expression. 

This appeared also a main characteristic of the Ro- 
maninos present, which were otherwise much varied, 
— according to his custom. Some were detached 
frescoes, with figures too large for such a room, — 
including a Christ at Emmaus with a very noble head. 
Among his canvases were a Pietd, an Adoration of the 
Child, — both very dark, — a Coronation of the Vir- 
gin, of heroic size and very impressive, a weird Christ 
bearing the Cross, clad in a white satin robe, and an 
injured group of St. Paul with four other saints. 

A few other schools were represented, by several 
striking works: a miniature procession on wood by 
Mantegna, of extraordinary tinting, a wonderful 
panel of the Madonna and two infants by Francia, 
a damaged Madonna by the same, two of Moroni's 
superb portraits, a lovely angel's head by Timoteo 
Viti (?), a magnificent Adoration of the Child by 
Lorenzo Lotto, gorgeously colored and finished, an 
interesting Bearing of the Cross by the rare Marco 
Palmesano da Forli, an Ecce Homo by Gian Bellini, 
and finally, a marvelous little work of Raphael's, 
representing the half-figure of Christ, showing at a 
glance how far he surpassed all others in lifelike 
moulding, golden flesh work, and nameless grace. 

In the adjacent third room there were a few more 




BRESCIA. THE CROSS OF ST. HELENA. (IN THE MUSEUM OF 
CHRISTIAN ART.) 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 491 

exceptional works, among a large number of average 
merit: a Christ healing a blind man, by Barbieri, a 
splendid triptych by Civerchio, — in which winged 
putti were crowning S. Nicolo, with vivacious joy, — 
and one of Savoldo's exquisitely beautiful composi- 
tions, an Adoration, in the stable at night-time, with 
a remarkable bluish moonlight effect seen through the 
open window, silvering the distant streams and moun- 
tains. The fourth room proved of little account; like- 
wise the series of chambers on the other side, devoted 
to engravings, drawings, etc. 

That afternoon I climbed the castle hill, by the steep 
footpath from Piazza Tito Speri at its southwest angle. 
To the right, then to the left through a tunnel under 
houses, and up a long flight of steps, — I reached the 
first circling roadway of the park; straight ahead still, 
over graveled paths, now ascending through the young 
wood, now turning, twisting, mounting steps at inter- 
vals, and winding again, — at last I emerged upon the 
southwestern corner of the summit, which proved to 
be surprisingly broad. There was room without the 
great quadrilateral of the fortress for a wide shady 
parkway and a stretch of turf; the old gray walls of 
broken stone rose stout and high behind their moat, 
looked over by varied buildings from the still higher 
ground within. To the east appeared the citadel 
proper, a ruined stone castle of shattered towers, 
perched upon the loftiest point, inclosing the ga- 
bled, barnlike structure which the Austrians had 
remodeled for their prison; on the left gleamed sev- 
eral frightful new edifices of yellow stucco, hideous 
in design, betraying by their "exposition style" that 
Brescia had just been holding here some kind of 
show. 

The view outwardly from the corner was most ex- 



492 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

tensive toward all but eastern points, being especially 
fine of the city spread below and the busy northern 
vale. After enjoying it, I entered the fortress by its 
main portal in the middle of the southern wall; on 
traversing whose deep dark archway, I stood in the 
precincts so long hated, menacing, and inaccessible. 
Pyramids of cannon-balls were reminders of those 
days when thousands such were hurled upon the roofs 
and streets below. Procuring an admission ticket at 
the entrance, for the city's Museo del Risorgimento, 
I was conducted past the new exhibition buildings, up 
the farther height of the castle, — approaching the 
latter on its western side. 

On this small peak of the summit has stood the cita- 
del of Brescia from the earliest known age; here the 
Romans built their acropolis, and eventually adorned 
it with a marble temple, whose massive columns and. 
gilded tiles flashed far and wide across the plain. ^ 
The foundations of the later, medieval stronghold are 
Roman. Even at this great height I found a moat 
around it, necessarily dry, however, and crossed next 
the southwest tower by a pair of the original draw- 
bridges; the broader one, for carriages, was raised 
against the wall; the slender one, for foot passengers, 
was let down by the medieval balance-beam. In this 
same grim, loop-holed round-tower, said my guide, 
was first imprisoned Tito Speri. Inside the wall still 
another ascent rose before me, between crumbhng 
stone buildings, to the supreme point where the tem- 
ple had stood, one hundred and one metres above the 
city streets, — now a bare spot with fragments of the 
Roman foundations; the edifice was partly conserved 

^ "The Brescians, also in this respect imitators of Rome, placed an altar 
to the Genius of their Colony on the Campidoglio. Its base was discovered 
in 1816." — Odorici, Storie Bresciane (sopra). 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 493 

till modern times by reason of having been turned 
into the early Church of S. Salvatore. 

This was at the eastern side of the fortress ; adjacent, 
on the west of the open, rose the castle building proper, 
with its rough gray walls; and the mighty round keep 
of medieval days stood detached beside it. From its 
lofty summit the white-coated foreigners used to watch 
the plain, for signs of a rising against their tyranny. 
Their gaze covered a wide tract of country; for in clear 
weather the towers of Cremona and Piacenza are 
visible to the south, — the latter fifty miles away, at 
the foot of the Apennines. 

Burning with glory, rosy in the sunset, 
Lombardy's plain lay far and wide before them; 
Swayed the Virgilian lake even as a bridal 
Veil of maidens.^ 

The custodian opened the door of the main building, 
in its southern front, and we mounted some dark 
stairs to the two upper stories; both were completely 
filled with interesting relics of the Risorgimento, of 
every nature, recalling all the various aspects and trib- 
ulations of that terrible epoch, and passing them in 
review before the mind, with a new and vivid proxim- 
ity that was wrought from the contact with such sur- 
viving objects. Here were the placards which had been 
posted from week to week in the streets of Brescia, 
during the days of war and rebellion, — reporting the 
latest successes or defeats of the patriotic cause, incit- 
ing the people to courage and sacrifice, calling them to 
arms, or assembly, or contribution of means; they were 
a burning, harrowing, intimate record of human agita- 
tions, surpassing in revivifying power any history ever 
written. 

^ Maud Holland's translation of Carducci. The Virgilian lake refers, of 
course, to the reed-bound waters of Mantua. 



494 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Here was the table that Garibaldi then slept upon, 
his saddle and carriage, his letters of blazing zeal to 
Brescia and her leaders; here were the precious memen- 
toes of Tito Speri, — his arms, writings, clothes, hand- 
kerchief, — any commonplace thing that had been sanc- 
tified by his touch; there were similar mementos of 
other heroes, in large number, also relics of the periods 
of plotting and organization, — in the shape of secret 
communications, signs, manuals, agreements, etc., — 
and relics of the war periods, in the form of guns, 
swords, cannons, uniforms, and other equipments. Es- 
pecially interesting were the wretched old muzzle-load- 
ing muskets, — with which poor instruments the patri- 
ots struggled against modern rifles, — and the pathetic 
attempts at regimentals, with which they often took 
the field. 

Finally, in the low, top rooms of the gable, illumined 
dimly from little barred windows set in the four-foot 
stone walls, I observed with keen sympathy the nu- 
merous steel manacles, — foot- and leg-irons, — still 
attached to their heavy chains, fastened at short inter- 
vals to the walls, with which the heroic prisoners had 
been loaded like wild beasts. There they had been 
chained, side by side, against the bare cold stones, 
awaiting the dawn that should lead them forth to 
death. So affecting was it all, so vividly did it recall 
those frightful days, that I breathed with a real relief 
when we emerged again into the sunshine, into the 
realization that Freedom was here at last, safe and 
undying. 

It were not Freedom if thou wert not free, 

Nor wert thou Italy, — 
O mystic rose ingrained with blood, impearled 

With tears of the whole world! ^ 

* Swinburne, Song of Italy. 



BRESCIA LA FERREA 495 

Another interesting walk to the city's outskirts is 
that westward to the great Camposanto, which one 
first sees at a distance, from the castle-hilltop. It 
consists of the customary quadrangle, here quite ex- 
tensive, lined on the four sides by rows of imposing 
cypresses; the usual tombs of modern sculpture adorn 
the inner arcades, some of them really beautiful; and 
at the centre of the green rises the principal monu- 
ment, — a lofty round tower upon a wide heavy base, 
tipped with a pointed dome, to which one can ascend 
by spiral stairs. 

One other monument greeted me, with a farewell 
to Brescia, upon the afternoon when I repaired to the 
station to depart. It beautifies a pleasant grass-plot 
without the Porta Stazione, adjacent to the road, — 
standing thus to welcome the arriving traveler or 
God-speed the departing. It is a striking composition, 
unique and vigorous, with all the fire of the modeling 
Italian genius, arresting by its very strangeness an eye 
wearied of all the conventional designs: at the top of 
half a dozen steps rises a plain marble screen, some 
ten feet high and twenty feet broad; upon this stands 
another section of similar size, embellished with a 
prominent high-relief of impressive beauty, — a madly 
dashing quadriga, driven by a majestic, helmeted 
Goddess of Fame, holding a deceased hero with one 
arm and a symbol of glory in the other hand. The 
symbol, the reins, and a few other points are touched 
with goldleaf, of glittering brilliance, which bestows 
upon the whole a dazzling splendor befitting the theme; 
and before the lower screen, upon a pedestal between 
the steps, stands a noble bronze figure, of heroic size 
and look, clad in the stately gown of a doctor of laws 
or philosophy. Placed some fifty feet back from the 
street, upon a gentle grassy knoll, encircled by flower- 



496 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

beds in front, and finely backed by a row of cypresses, 
— against whose massed, dark foliage the marble 
glistens and the horses plunge, — the whole superb 
construction is an ideal encomium of the patriotic 
statesman, Zanardelli. 

He was another leader of those glorious days of 
strife and unification ; his residence — whence he ad- 
dressed the people, and emerged to guide them in their 
crises — had been shown to me on Via S. Giulia. And 
so the last thing I saw, as I went away, was still another 
memorial of Brescia's heroic temper, — a final re- 
minder of her lofty, intrepid spirit, that led the way to 
freedom through blood and fire. 

Beautiful Italy! — golden amber 
Warm with the kisses of lover and traitor! 
Thou who hast drawn us on to remember. 
Draw us to hope now; let us be greater 
By this new future than that old story. ^ 

^ Mrs. Browning, Italy and the World. 



CHAPTER XIII 

MONTAGNANA, ESTE, AND MONSELICE 

The land that holds the rest in tender thrall 

For love's sake in them all. 
That binds with words, and holds with eyes and hands. 

All hearts in all men's lands. 

— Swinburne. 

Through the endless wheat-fields of the middle plain, 
now yellow with stubble, now green with the sprout- 
ing winter crop, now crossed by numberless files of 
stripped mulberry trees stretching as far as the eye 
could reach, I was rolling southeastward from Verona 
to the historic district of the Polesine. Seaward now, 
toward the fair Euganean Hills, — this time upon their 
southern side, whence sprang that foremost of all 
Italian princely races, more famous even than the 
Visconti, — the House of Este. I was approaching the 
immemorial cradle of that great family, the most an- 
cient — aside from Savoy — of all ruling Italian dynas- 
ties, the origin of whose power and nobility was so re- 
mote as to be lost in the mists of time; that family 
which counts among its descendants nearly every 
European sovereign of to-day, from King George V 
to the pettiest German grand duke. I was nearing the 
primeval stronghold, at the foot of the Colli Euga- 
nei, from which they drew their name, and sallied 
forth to their earliest conquests over the whole sur- 
rounding region between the hills and the Po, — from 
Legnago on the west to the Adriatic on the east. 

This was the district of the Polesine, celebrated 
from Roman days for the richness of its alluvial soil. 



498 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

washed down and watered by innumerable streams, 
always thickly inhabited by a prosperous agricultural 
people, with a dozen or more wealthy little cities of 
five to fifteen thousand inhabitants. It was this fertile 
region that the warlike Estensi ruled from the earliest 
period of the Middle Age, and made the basis of all 
their future fame and power. " Alberto Azzo II," says 
Gregorovius, " who is originally mentioned as Marchio 
di Longobardia (Marquis of Lombardy) governed the 
territory from Mantua to the Adriatic and the region 
about the Po, where he owned Este and Rovigo. . . . 
These lords, . . . who first appeared about the time 
of the Lombard invasion, were descended from a fam- 
ily whose remote ancestor was one Albert. The names 
Adalbert and Albert assume in Italian the form Oberto, 
from which we have the diminutives Obizzo and Azzo. 
. . . Alberto Azzo II married Kunigunde, daughter 
of Count Guelph III of Swabia, and in this way the 
famous German family of Guelph became connected 
with the Oberti and drawn into Italian politics. When 
Alberto Azzo died. in the year 1096, — more than one 
hundred years old, — he left two sons, Guelph and 
Folco; Gruelph inherited the property of his maternal 
grandfather, Guelph III, in whom the male line of the 
house became extinct in 1055. He went to Germany, 
where he became Duke of Bavaria, and founded the 
Guelph line. Folco inherited his father's Italian pos- 
sessions." ^ He and his son continued to dwell at Este 
and lord it over the Polesine; but his grandson, Azzo 
V, married the Marchesella Adelardi, heiress of the 
leader of the Guelphs in the city of Ferrara, toward 
the close of the twelfth century, — and domiciled him- 
self in Ferrara, as his father-in-law's successor. This 
was the beginning of the Estense leadership of the 

^ Gregorovius, Lucretia Borgia. 



MONTAGNANA 499 

whole Guelphic cause, and their domination of Fer- 
rara. Within a few years, in 1208, Azzo VI, the next 
Marquis of Este, drove the Ghibelline faction entirely 
from the city, and was elected by the people as their 
hereditary ruler. "In this way the Este established 
the first tyranny on the ruins of a commune." 

While living at Este, the marquises had given the 
most of their attention to Padua, considering them- 
selves the champions of the Guelphic party in that 
town, and indulging in frequent strife with the city 
over questions of territory. After removing to Ferrara, 
they kept up this strife, having a continuous struggle 
to preserve their ownership of the Polesine. They re- 
turned to Este only for an occasional villeggiatura; but 
they did not wish to lose the fertile region upon which 
the Paduans, Veronese, and Venetians looked with 
such covetous eyes, and which they fought over for 
nearly three centuries. During Ezzelino da Romano's 
lordship of Padua, he made especial efforts to wrest the 
towns of the Polesine from the Estensi; but Azzo VII 
(1215-64) successfully resisted, becoming Ezzelino's 
bitterest and most steadfast enemy, and finally effect- 
ing the combination that pulled him to earth in 1259. 
Azzo was so financially weakened by the long struggle 
that in the following year he sold Este, Cerro, and 
Calaone to the commune of Padua, receiving them 
back as fiefs, under an annual tribute. 

His son, Obizzo II (1264-93,) was a strong ruler, ex- 
tending the Estense sway to Modena and Reggio; but 
his grandson, Azzo VIII (1293-1308), suffered the 
loss of various important lands and castles in this re- 
gion, at the hands of the Paduans and Alberto della 
Scala. The next marquis. Fresco, lost practically all of 
the district; but Can Grande della Scala in his turn 
despoiled the Paduans, seizing in 1317 the strongholds 



500 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

of Montagnana, Este, Monselice, and other towns, 
and finally gaining possession of Padua itself. The 
Scala dominion of the Polesine lasted twenty years. 
In 1337, Venice, Florence, the Delia Carrara, and Es- 
tensi entered into a secret treaty to crush Mastino II 
della Scala, which was carried out, and by which the 
Estensi recovered their cherished territory. Venice 
thereafter protected the Estensi against the Paduans, 
until she took Padua herself, in 1405; receiving in re- 
turn many special privileges of trading and transporta- 
tion. The Polesine, therefore, at this period enjoyed 
about a century and a half of peace and prosperity, 
while the Este princes flourished at Ferrara, celebrated 
far and wide for the culture and brilliancy of their 
Court. The classic revival, in which they took such a 
lead, was brought by them also to Este and its sur- 
rounding territory; they embellished the ancestral 
town, and gave many a grand entertainment in the 
ancient castle on its knoll, where there was usually 
some member of the family residing. 

This splendid period reached its apogee under Lion- 
ello (1441^50), Borso (1450-71), and Ercole (1471- 
1505), a trio of princes justly famed for their culture, 
magnificence, and patronage of all the arts. Borso 
was created by Emperor Frederick II the Duke of 
Modena and Reggio, Count of Rovigo and Com- 
machio ; and by Pope Paul VII was constituted Duke 
of Ferrara, — a nominal papal fief. Ercole, however, 
fell into disaster, becoming embroiled in a war with 
the Serene Republic, which had long coveted the 
Polesine, and now seized it forcibly, about 1480. 
From that time till the coming of Bonaparte, Este, 
Montagnana, and the rest of this district throve under 
the wise and equitable rule of Venice. She rebuilt 
those mighty walls and towers which still encircle 



MONTAGNANA 501 

Montagnana in all their massiveness, quite undecayed, 
and render it to,-day an ideal example of the fortified 
Renaissance town; she strengthened the old castles 
of Este and Monselice, the main strongholds of the 
region, which before the days of cannon were prac- 
tically invulnerable; and she brought increased pros- 
perity to Rovigo, Battaglia, and all the eastern part 
of the Polesine, by reconstructing and maintaining in 
good order that network of canals which still carries 
their rich produce cheaply to market.^ 

As far as Legnago, — which must not be confounded 
with Legnano, the birthplace of Italian freedom, north 
of Milan, — my route lay within the district of the 
noted Austrian "Quadrilateral"; the broad Adige was 
its eastern boundary, and the fortress of Legnago its 
southeastern corner. On this ride the plain had as- 
sumed its beautiful dress of autumn-gold. The lines of 
drooping, yellow willows 'along the frequent streams 
and irrigating-ditches, the occasional straight files of 
poplars along the highways, and groves of beetling 
cypresses around graveyards and old monastery 
buildings, all relieved the flatness of the landscape. 
There were russet plane trees also, shading the roads 
and gathered about the farmhouses and villages, with 
now and then a small orchard of fruit trees next a 
dwelling. The fields were mostly restricted to the 
valuable mulberry; but everywhere surrounding them, 
serving as divisional lines, and occupying in rows all 
the vineyards, were those arboreal species from which 
the people derive their scanty fuel, — elm, beech, 
ash, birch, etc., — their knobby boles now graced 

^ There are records of canals in this district as early as the days of the 
Celts, which Rome duly enlarged and extended; but during the Middle 
Ages they fell into disuse and ruin. Their renovation was commenced by 
the Estensi, and completed by the Republic, which also added to their size 
and number. 



502 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

by the summer's growth oi boughs, soon to be cut 
away. 

These last, moreover, in the vineyards, aided in pro- 
ducing what was the fairest feature of the whole land- 
scape, — owing to the graceful way in which the vines 
are trained through this section:^ around each tree, 
with its crown of this year's tender boughs, was 
planted a circle of stakes, leaning outward, bound to 
the trunk and to each other by strings, along which 
the grape tendrils clambered in the prettiest fashion. 
This was the prevalent method, though I noticed 
others, and occasionally an instance of the lovely 
Umbrian fashion of swinging long festoons from tree 
to tree. One charming feature of this countryside 
was unusual, — the abundance of hedges everywhere, 
along the roads and between the fields; not as trim 
as English hedges, but still very ornamental. Water, 
as usual, was much in evidence, the ditches and canals 
for draining and irrigation being ever in sight, with 
now and then a field entirely swamped; a great many 
are flooded at the rainy season, but cultivable in the 
others. Every foot of available ground is carefully 
tilled in this region, not an acre being allowed for 
woodland or pasture; and the crop, aside from the 
vine, is always wheat, wheat, — with the sole excep- 
tion of a very little barley, and some market-garden- 
ing near the towns; which is curiously different from 
the ubiquitousness of maize farther north. 

Another marked difference from the northern plain 
was the scarcity of the dwellings: but rarely did an 
isolated farmhouse appear, and then it was of the 
usual stained and crumbling stucco, — dwelling, 
stables, and pig-sty under one roof, surrounding a 

1 By the section here described, is meant the country around Legnago 
and Montagnana. 



MONTAGNANA 503 

yard heaped with manure and refuse of every kind; 
while before it stood generally a sort of little outhouse 
whose use I could not discern, with a queer peaked roof 
of thatch or rushes, like a Malay hut. With these few 
exceptions, the teeming population was still gathered 
into villages, like the Middle Ages, — countless vil- 
lages, each with its long history, its individuality, its 
dialect, its characteristics of building, and labor, and 
customs. For there is no nation so utterly gregarious 
as the Italians, — for whom life is so much a matter 
of human society. Their idea' of a pleasant locality, 
remarked Mrs. Piozzi, is expressed in the phrase, 
**Cio e con un mondo d' amici cosi. . . . No human 
being suffers solitude so ill as does an Italian. They 
can hardly believe that there is existing a person who 
would not willingly prefer any company to none." ^ 

And how devotedly they become attached to their 
own little town or hamlet! "The provincials," says 
Countess Evelyn Martinengo-Cesaresco, "whatever 
be their class, still speak their own familiar idiom when 
alone. Each separate dialect is a bond of union, a 
freemasonry, an echo from home in distant parts, — 
home, which in Italy is less an emotion of the hearth 
than of the sunlight as it falls upon the native valley, 
the village campanile, the piazza with the plane trees 
and the bowling-ground, the fountain with the brown- 
armed girls." ^ Yet to the stranger these numberless 
hamlets of the plain are as alike as their railway sta- 
tions, ever flitting by. Ah, those stations, — surely 
they must all have been poured into a single mould: 
the long, uncovered platform, the two-storied building 
of creamy yellow stucco, with its half-dozen doorways 
marked in plain black lettering, the stretch of regular, 

^ Mrs. Piozzi, Glimpses from Italian Society, etc.; with an introduction 
by Countess Evelyn Martinengo-Cesaresco. 



504 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

flowered turf at each end, separating off the little 
cubical outhouses and the water-tank, the avenue of 
plane trees leading, straight as a die, from the rear of 
the building to the adjacent borough, — what traveler 
does not know them! 

Carea, — where the line from Verona to Rovigo 
connects with that from Mantua to Monselice, — 
and Legnago, the former fortress, both appeared to 
be towns of some size, with a fresh, restored look as if 
they had been rebuilt of late. Legnago in fact has 
nearly fifteen thousand inhabitants now, and is said to 
be flourishing; yet there is nothing to call the stranger 
to descend and pay it a visit. Half a dozen miles far- 
ther on, we reached Bevilacqua, the first town of the 
Polesine; and here on the left appeared a magnificent 
castle, of red brick with white stone trimmings, either 
recently built or splendidly restored; its square form 
was heavily battlemented, with great, machicolated 
towers at the angles; it stood amidst a park of large 
and handsome trees, beside a stream crossed by a fine 
double-arched bridge. Beyond it, to the far northeast, 
I caught the first view of the Euganean Hills, their 
gentle slopes and rounded summits wrapped in the 
mist of distance. 

Another four or five miles brought us to Monta- 
gnana, and two minutes later I was driving up the cus- 
tomary avenue to the town in an antiquated rattle- 
trap of a public vettura, at the cost of eight soldi for 
the half-mile distance. The fields on each side were 
rather bare of trees, giving me a clear view of the 
grand old walls we were approaching. Far away to 
the east and west they stretched, as straight as a 
plumb-line, a mile or more in length, varied at regular 
intervals by imposing hexagonal towers, loftier than 
the tall curtains between them; ten of these towers I 



MONTAGNANA 505 

counted, every one as exact and unbroken as if not a 
century had passed since its erection. Not a battle- 
ment appeared missing from their summits, nor from 
the even, solid lengths of wall, whose clay-colored 
bricks seemed endowed with all the weight and dura- 
bility of stone. I could recall no other brick fortifica- 
tions in the land, of such exceptional size and regular- 
ity, and such perfect preservation. They concealed 
all the city's buildings save a few tiled roofs, and the 
looming forms and campanili of the churches. 

In this whole southern wall, it was evident, there 
had been originally no opening whatever; for medieval 
Montagnana had but two directions, east and west, 
having grown up along the highway from Este to 
Mantua, beside which it is strung out as an attenu- 
ated rectangle, but four or five blocks in width. There 
was little or no passage at right angles to this line, and 
so they confined themselves to two gates only, at the 
narrow ends, which were towered and castellated into 
a state of invulnerability. The railroad with its sta- 
tion had altered that condition of affairs^ and so I saw 
now before me a modern opening for the approach, 
in the shape of two rounded archways near the middle 
of the wall ; the broad moat had been filled with earth, 
on which we passed solidly to the inner side. A single 
block then to the north, and we entered the one great 
thoroughfare of the town, — the ancient highway, — 
which runs straight between old arcades and stuccoed 
buildings of three stories, from one principal gateway 
to the other. A bit to the east here, on the left side, I 
descended at the primitive little Albergo Arena, the 
best thing in the way of an inn that the place could 
offer. 

The aged host and his dame bustled around with an 
excitement which revealed that a forestiere in Mon- 



506 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

tagnana is a very rare bird indeed; not that they 
manifested any idea of plucking me, — they were too 
simple for any such citified ideas. On one side of 
the usual driveway entrance to the court, was the 
clean-looking kitchen with its brick hearth and cop- 
per utensils; on the other, the general guest- and- 
eating-room, beside which mounted the crooked 
narrow stairs; the first floor was a maze of winding 
passages and different levels, amongst which I was 
given a bare but clean front room, for the modest sum 
— without bargaining — of one franc and a half per 
day. My meals were cooked by the good dame her- 
self (they had but one helper) , and, though served on 
the coarsest of linen with iron forks, were thoroughly 
enjoyed; for there are certain things any North-Italian 
can cook well, — minestra, veal cutlet alia Milanese, 
macaroni, and native vegetables, — and they nearly 
always have some good wine to add a zest.^ 

In the cool of the afternoon I started out for my pre- 
liminary stroll, making eastward again on the main 
thoroughfare, beneath its ancient stucco arcades, sus- 
tained by pillars of every shape and condition; and 
a comparatively few steps opened out the Piazza 
Grande, stretching northward from the street to a 
most surprising extent. It was a vast space, of great 
age and picturesqueness; paved with cobblestones 
around the sides, and with flagstones in the broad 
rectangular centre, where stood the city's marble 
monument to Vittorio Emanuele II; surrounded by 
diversified arcades, in aged stuccoed buildings of every 
type and color; while the huge brick mass of the 
Duomo projected boldly into the area from its north- 

^ One must, however, ask for Tuscan or Piedmont vintages, if he wishes 
the best obtainable; the Veronese are but fair, while those of the plain in 
general are no longer palatable. (See next chapter.) 



MONTAGNANA 507 

east angle, reaching halfway to the monument. In 
contrast with its simple, massive form of yellowish 
brown brick, the houses glowed with a score and more 
of bright and variegated hues, softened by time into 
a certain harmony, — gray tints, cream, red, green, 
pink, white, brown, yellow, azure, russet, vermilion, 
dark blue, all commingled into a happy prismatic 
sheen. 

The arcades were entirely round-arched, save at the 
northern end of the east side next the church, where 
a very old dwelling — one of three stories, like the 
majority — rose upon Gothic arches with ponderous, 
spreading piers. Adjacent stood two houses of almost 
equal antiquity, one resting upon similar stuccoed 
piers, the other upon gray-stone Doric columns; after 
which, going south, appeared a couple in which the 
arcades were two-storied, — one supported by heavy, 
rusticated, stone piers, the other by hexagonal stone 
pillars ; behind these at some distance soared a mighty, 
medieval, brick tower, which proved to belong to the 
castello of the eastern gate. Nearly as ancient as these 
crumbling buildings were those of the northern por- 
tion of the piazza, beyond the Duomo ; but its south- 
ern side was of the later Renaissance, centred by a 
large stuccoed palazzo with brown-stone trimmings, 
curiously painted pink upon its string-course, brown 
with white veinings upon its entablature, and light 
green in its upper body, veined with pink and white. 
On its left stood another palazzo, topped with two 
of the oddest ornamental chimneys that I have ever 
seen, — huge stone structures upon the eaves, carved 
like swelling Oriental turrets, — strange relics of the 
rococo. 

The first half of the western side alone was modern, 
composed of five classic edifices of rather imposing 



508 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

design, with handsome arcades, cornices, and bal- 
conies; the one upon the corner being exceedingly 
ornate, with gray stucco relievo upon its architraves, 
window-frames, and cornicione. Under the fifth 
arcade I found, to my surprise and pleasure, a first- 
class modern caffe, recently started, — the "Caffe 
Loggia" of Pietro Stefani; a fact of much significance 
to travelers, because here one is able to obtain good 
cafS-au-lait in the morning, cafi noir in the evening, 
afternoon tea when wanted, and all the customary 
beverages, besides the daily and illustrated journals, 
— which Montagnana had never seen before. Im- 
mediately beyond it is the local theatre, with a noble 
entrance loggia adorned by Doric columns of gray 
granite, — where traveling companies often give per- 
formances, including vaudeville. 

Advancing to the northern portion of the piazza, I 
observed two interesting Renaissance palaces on its 
western side: the first, a small quaint edifice of Pal- 
ladian style; the second, a most eccentric old dwelling 
of preposterous hues. Its round arches below were 
painted in imitation of inset red-marble panels, and 
topped by a creamy-yellow entablature, with medal- 
lions in the spandrils containing busts ; the first-floor 
windows were pointed, tipped with reliefs of fruit and 
foliage, and set in rectangular frames, between which 
the body was colored red and green in checkered 
designs; the second-floor windows were circular, in 
square frames, interspersed by octagonal panels of 
reddish tint, holding white medallions with busts in 
grisaille; the string-courses were arcaded, and the 
fantastic cornice was upheld by sculptured bat-like 
creatures; down the angles extended two pilaster 
strips, painted, like all the rest, in imitation of red and 
green veined marble. It was a weird specimen of the 



MONTAGNANA . 509 

deepest decadence of the Renaissance. On the east 
side rose another good Palladian mansion, with a 
Doric colonnade; and a third handsome palazzo 
adorned the street leading northward from the left- 
hand corner, covered with an interesting old wooden 
roof, projecting widely on wooden consoles. The 
street was broad, and arcaded on both sides, but ended 
only a block away, against a grim tower of the north- 
ern wall. 

The sombre old Cathedral, amidst all this palatial 
architecture, so surprising in a town of ten thousand 
souls, stood solitary, massive, and uncouth, like a 
relic of some darker, savage era, — as indeed it was; 
the vast brick walls, supported by clumsy spreading 
buttresses at the sides and angles, had once been 
encased in stucco, which now was practically all crum- 
bled away; their plainness was relieved by naught 
but simple pilaster-strips between the buttresses, a 
crude arcaded cornice, a marble portal, and three slen- 
der open canopies topping the flat gable, holding each 
a bell within its Corinthian columns. There was no 
campanile; the transepts ended in lower apses, decor- 
ated in Lombard fashion with pilaster-strips; and a 
pair of simple side porches, upon low arches, snuggled 
into the angles between transepts and nave. Further 
evidences of the building's Gothic period, — probably 
the early fifteenth century, — were offered in the re- 
markable paucity and the lancet form of the windows, 
only two or three in each side; while the stern fagade 
had but a single one, circular in shape, without frame 
or tracery. 

The marble portal — I found, upon advancing to 
it — was a later addition to the Gothic body, of the 
high Renaissance : a pair of fluted Corinthian columns 
on each side of the round-arched doorway supported 



510 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

a broad entablature, of which the chief feature was a 
circular niche in the middle, holding a well-executed 
and rather pleasing half -figure of the Madonna with 
her Child. The two simple brick pilaster-strips rising 
beside the portal, were oddly broken off at mid-height, 
for a fifth of their length, and protruded like chim- 
neys above the sloping arcaded cornice; they are, I 
believe, absolutely unique. Another peculiar feature 
was the huge clock-face in the gable, just above the 
plain circular window. In the right wall of the nave, 
externally, I found embedded several ancient marble 
inscriptions, and two or three simple early tombs. 
High upon a buttress of the right transept appeared 
a strange marble relief like a coat-of-arms, showing 
two jputti or genii beside a hound, and inscribed, 
*'Divo Prothomartiri Stephano." 

The interior of this unusual church, when I ex- 
amined it next morning, proved to be equally peculiar: 
it was very lofty, dark, and cool, and especially bare, 
being designed in a queer mixture of Gothic and Re- 
naissance forms, which showed the transition period. 
The rouiid-arched, plastered nave, without aisles or 
chapels, ended in a still darker choir, mysteriously 
illumined by five long blue windows of much opaque- 
ness, and approached by three broad red-marble steps. 
Along the side walls of the nave ran oaken panelings 
and benches like choir seats, with prettily carved 
cornices, broken midway by a single altar on each 
hand; that on the left was of horrible baroque form, the 
other had a most beautiful. Renaissance, marble frame, 
exquisitely sculptured on every part with foliations 
interspersed with tiny 'putti, and surmounted by sev- 
eral statuettes upon the cornice. This frame held a 
large and magnificent canvas by Buonconsiglio, — 
signed, dated 1513, — representing Mary Magdalen 



MONTAGNANA 511 

between St. Anthony of Padua and an archangel 
grasping the hand of Tobias; these glorious, life-size 
figures stood apparently in a domed rotunda, — the 
Magdalen upon a pedestal, — and were colored with 
delightful simplicity in rich shades of crimson, white, 
and brown. It alone was worth the trip to Monta- 
gnana. Above it, along the marble frieze, gamboled 
a most charming line of cherubs in high-relief, sur- 
passingly winsome in their grace and joyousness. I 
did not succeed in ascertaining the sculptor's name. 

The old pavement of the nave was tessellated in 
red and white marbles; the organ-loft was perched 
over the main entrance, and a small altar was located 
in each front corner. There was no dome; the transepts 
were short and apsidal, containing altars between 
pairs of lancet windows, — baroque in form, though of 
polished granite and Siena marble. The southern 
pala was unimportant, but that of the high-altar was 
by Buonconsiglio again, — another exceptionally 
large canvas, depicting the Transfiguration: Christ is 
shown talking with Moses and Elias, upon a cloud 
that seems to press down upon the three dazed and 
prostrate apostles, gazing up with awe and amazement 
at the angels hovering above the speakers. It is not 
so high a work as the other; for the Christ seems to be 
posing, the apostles are distorted, convulsed, in group- 
ing and movement, and none of them are quite life- 
like, — doubtless due to the retouching. The stucco 
framework of this apse was unusual, — a triumphal 
arch, adorned with rosettes upon its soffit, upheld by 
giant Corinthian columns on high double bases, which 
were decorated each with a series of ten busts in 
relievo; seven tall depressed arches extended round the 
apse, framing the windows, and supporting an elabo- 
rate entablature with a row of little heads upon the 



512 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

frieze, — while their spahdrils held other busts, within 
medallions. The half -dome contained an enormous 
fresco of the Ascension, aged and damaged, but of 
splendidly effective composition, — endless throngs 
of angels being visible within the gates of the opened 
Paradise, above the twelve heroic figures of the 
apostles. It was powerfully conceived and drawn, and 
once must have been sublime; its author appeared to 
be unknown. 

The sides of the choir were richly adorned with 
oaken panelings above the double row of stalls: 
Corinthian pilasters, formerly gilded upon their delic- 
ate reliefs, framed five lofty panels on each wall, that 
held painted scenic tableaux and large individual 
figures; these were evidently by different hands, for 
those on the left were better, — including a Flight 
into Egypt with a charming Madonna, in a pleasing, 
finely toned landscape. The pavement of the choir also 
was exceptionally rich, and very old, being inlaid with 
diamonds in black, red, and yellow marbles. 

In the left transept appeared a third great canvas 
by Buonconsiglio, — the Madonna being crowned by 
two flying 'putti, seated between Saints Roch and 
Sebastian, in a marbled hall sustained by Corinthian 
columns; the putti and the Sebastian being retouched 
out of any semblance to reality, but the face of St. 
Roch still showing the power of the master. The Vir- 
gin's form, clad simply in a red bodice and green robe, 
remained the best of the three, although her head 
did incline rather too sentimentally on one shoulder. 
Another large Renaissance canvas hung in the right 
transept, — an odd one, depicting a Venetian naval 
battle with the Turks; probably a relic of the fame 
of the Venetian Admiral Pisani, who had a country 
palace at Montagnana, and lies buried here. 



MONTAGNANA 513 

This same morning the piazza presented an appear- 
ance very different from its vacant neatness of the pre- 
ceding evening: it was fulfilling its primary functions 
as a market-ground. The whole of the paved central 
space was a mass of booths with bright, tented cov- 
erings, vending every variety of produce, clothing, 
and household articles; a dense crowd thronged their 
narrow alleys, and the surrounding streets were 
jammed with country vehicles and peddlers' wagons. 
In the cool of the afternoon, when the great part of 
this gathering had already subsided, I strolled east- 
ward on the main street, to the tall edifice of the Muni- 
cipio close at hand upon the right. It stood somewhat 
back from the way, a three-storied brick palazzo, 
covered cleverly with stucco to resemble rusticated 
stone (which was now much worn off) and of attractive 
Renaissance design: the ground story was arcaded, 
with triple openings and square piers, forming a loggia 
two bays deep, in which stood the handsome portal, 
framed by Corinthian columns; the windows above 
were divided by Ionic pilasters, coupled at the angles. 
This building was erected by the great Sammicheli, 
and long occupied by the Venetian Podestas. 

I mounted the main staircase just within the por- 
tal, and succeeded in finding a considerate oflScial to 
show me about. The principal apartment was the 
large Sala del Consiglio on the second floor, to the 
right, which retained its original marble pavement and 
noble carved oak roof. Here I found Buonconsiglio's 
remaining picture, very little retouched and in fine 
condition: it depicted the throned Madonna, with 
two charming child-angels playing musical instru- 
ments at her feet, — Saints Paul and Sebastian and a 
bishop standing to the right, Saints Peter and John 
the Baptist and another on the left, — all posed 



514 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

within a small vaulted rotunda sustained by columns. 
The tone was delieiously golden; the life-size figures 
were of great naturalness and splendid beauty, su- 
perbly colored, in a subdued golden light. Especially 
lovely was the face and form of the Madonna, and 
all of them were expressive of celestial bliss; — truly 
an extraordinary picture to preside over the meetings 
of a small town council.^ The adjacent hall of the Ar- 
chivio Vecchio, upon the front, contained a beautiful 
red-marble chimney-piece by Sammicheli; the other 
rooms were modernized and of no special interest. 

The main street continued eastward between aged 
stucco houses of two and three stories, colored with 
kaleidoscopic effect, and arcaded on both sides, — inter- 
spersed with an occasional colonnade without arches; 
and down each side street to the right, but one block 
distant, was seen the accompanying city wall, sur- 
mounted by its tall battlements and mighty towers, 
with its fighting-platform sustained by a succession 
of huge brick arches. Finally the way debouched 
into a broad piazza before the great castle of the 
eastern gate, called the Porta S. Zeno, — a typical 
aggregation of medieval ernbattled structures, trans- 
porting one bodily to the bellicose sixteenth century. 
Somewhat to the right and far to the left stretched the 
three-storied, battlemented, brick edifice of the castello, 
pierced by the three successive ports of the dark, tun- 
neled gateway, — the third, or anteport, extending 
beyond the walls. To the right the old building was 

^ ^ This masterpiece appears to me Buonconsiglio's finest surviving work, 
surpassing even his beautiful pala of S. Rocco at Vicenza. In it he ap- 
proaches nearest to the ineffable grace and coloring of Palma Vecchio, 
upon whom he clearly modeled his style, after his study of the latter's 
methods at Vicenza and Venice. This was one of the master's last works; 
and makes us sorrowful indeed that he died at the early age of thirty - 
three, with such a promise of future glories unfulfilled. 



MONTAGNANA 515 

entered by a ponderous rusticated archway, above . 
which opened handsome double-arched windows in the 
upper stories; beyond this extended a lower structure 
of stucco, — marked " Cavallerizza " over its entrance, 
— which embraced the whole southeastern angle of 
the city walls; to the left the castle was pierced by 
another grand archway, but the deep windows were 
square-headed and plain. Two massive keeps soared 
behind the more southern buildings, — one in the rear 
of the "Cavallerizza," the hexagonal corner tower 
of the ramparts; the other just beside the anteport, 
the square guard-tower of the entrance and donjon 
of the fortress. 

Through all these edifices and the piazza poured 
an abundance of martial life, — for here was located 
the large garrison of Montagnana, consisting mostly 
of cavalry. Soldiers lounged everywhere, in doors, in 
windows, in the open ; scores were rubbing down their 
horses before the castle, and exercising them in the 
square; through the momentarily opened gate of the 
" Cavallerizza " I saw its vast yard filled with other 
steeds and troopers, similarly engaged. On traversing 
the deep dark gateway, over whose well-like ports the 
mighty donjon loomed like a menacing Colossus, I 
found the same scenes being enacted in the broad dry 
bed of the fosse : a hundred or two of cavalrymen were 
currying their chargers in the shade of the tall horse- 
chestnuts along the outer bank, and trying to teach 
them various feats and tricks. The walls had been 
pierced with rows of modern windows and doorways, 
and a modern extension of the castle encroached upon 
the sward. As for the gateway, it was untouched, con- 
serving still its massive cinquecento gates of bolted 
wood, between the first and second ports; although 
the approach was a later bridge of masonry, on whose 



516 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

parapets sat a throng of citizens watching the 
soldiers. 

From this the highway extended straightaway to the 
east, between an indefinite succession of villas and large 
dwellings, with occasional gardens; and the first edi- 
fice on the left was an imposing Palladian palace 
adorned with Doric half-columns below and Ionic 
above, all of creamy stucco. It was the villa of Ad- 
miral Pisani, whose arms were visible in the pediment, 
flanked by two reclining female figures of marble. On 
its farther side extended a baroque, one-storied chapel, 
which contains the Admiral's tomb, — said to be an 
excellent piece of Renaissance sculpture. This was a 
branch of the same opulent family that built the Palazzo 
Stra on the Brenta; it existed until recent years, when 
by the marriage of a sole surviving daughter its pos- 
sessions passed to the Conti Giusti. The Count was 
not now in residence, and without his personal per- 
mission I was unable to enter. 

I strolled for half a mile down the road, admiring 
the graceful vagaries of villa architecture, — the ar- 
cades, lo^ge, towers, and dainty cotta-work, the walls 
overhung by draperies of vine, and the beautiful gar- 
dens adorned with statues and pavilions. On return- 
ing to Piazza Grande, I inspected the street leading 
southward from it, which was one startling rainbow of 
vivid hues, including rose, lavender, bistre, ochre, 
and various other gaudy tints, all recently renewed. 
At its end, backing upon the city wall, rose the old, 
abandoned Church of S. Francesco, a brick edifice 
of pleasing Gothic lines, topped by a handsome 
campanile, with a belfry of double ogive arches on 
coupled marble shafts. Near by on the west I found 
the strangest garden wall that I ever saw, resembling 
a vermilion postage-stamp from Turkey or Persia. 



MONTAGNANA 517 

Immediately west of the albergo, on the main street, 
rose an interesting Gothic palazzo of the early quat- 
trocento: its charming feature was a colonnaded win- 
dow of five ogive arches with rectangular cusps, in 
the middle of the piano nohile, — their points relieved 
with foliated caps, — and two balconies of exquisite, 
marble, open-work railings, extending at the window's 
ends, upon elaborate marble consoles. Flanking these 
were single windows of similar design, underset by 
frescoed red busts in panels; and the ground-floor 
arcade upon Corinthian columns, contained a delight- 
ful Renaissance portal. This handsome palace, and a 
number of others upon the main thoroughfare, of more 
purely Renaissance design, gave proofs of the extens- 
ive use of Montagnana in earlier days as a place of 
villeggiatura for the noble Venetian families. 

I walked on, toward sunset, to the western city 
gate. Porta Legnago, which as a gateway, pur et 
simple, proved more formidable than the eastern, 
though not accompanied by any castle; it had five 
ports, — two without the wall, one within its breadth, 
and two inside, all surrounded by lofty battlemented 
erections; the outer ports protruding upon the bridge 
of masonry that spanned the now grassy moat. Domi- 
nating these was the customary great tower, of colos- 
sal height, splendidly machicolated and crenelated. 
The preservation here, as elsewhere, was very re- 
markable. Beyond it the highway plunged at once into 
the luxuriant open country. 

The little city has a couple of parallel back streets, 
north of the main one, and half a dozen widely spaced 
at right angles; all without arcades, save for a few 
solitary houses, and well interspersed with gardens. 
These I wandered through in the sunset-hour, glancing 
over the several additional churches, of uninteresting 



518 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

rococo design; — and tHe next morning early, was 
away for Este, catching a train at 7 or 8 a.m. The 
journey contained nothing noteworthy, — only a 
gradual nearing of the rounded Euganean Hills, which 
rose slowly higher and more distinct, till I descended 
at their very feet. On emerging from the little station 
I saw the two southernmost peaks towering immedi- 
ately to the north, — the end of the chain, obscuring 
the others by their bulk; they were smoothly topped, 
verdant cones, checkered by grain-fields here and there, 
with one white-walled village perched upon a shoulder 
halfway up, and another ensconed in the far saddle 
between the twin summits, fifteen hundred feet in air. 
From the lower slopes a long sharp ridge projected 
southward into the plain, and upon the end of this 
was located, I found, the ancient castle of the Estensi. 
The town grew up along its western side, reaching now 
half a mile farther south, to the railway; — a sleepy 
but prosperous little city of eleven thousand people. 
Ariosto made a famous play of words upon its name, 
and its prosperity of his day: — 

And because Charles shall say in Latin, "Este /" — 

(That is, — be lords of the dominion round !) 

Entitled in a future season Este 

Shall with good omen be that beauteous ground; 

And thus its ancient title of Ateste 

Shall of its two first letters lose the sound.^ 

Taking a vettura, I drove north along the main 
thoroughfare, Via Principe Umberto, which was lined 
at first by comparatively modern buildings, but later 
ran between aged stucco houses of faded hues, arcaded 
on both sides, till it debouched into the spacious Piazza 
Maggiore. This stretched westward from the street, 

^ Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, canto Lxv; Rose's translation. — "Charles" 
is Charlemagne. This is a double pun, for by the second "Este" the poet 
refers to the Italian word meaning summer-time, — hence, fertility. 



ESTE 519 

which continued again beyond it for several blocks; 
but I had not to go so far, for half a block beyond 
the square, on the left hand, I was set down at the 
town's best hostelry, — as it was recommended to me, 

— the "Albergo Cavallino," conducted by the good 
dame Giuseppina Zannini. She gave me her principal 
guest-room, a large and comfortable chamber on the 
first-floor front; and I had naught to complain of but 
the inevitable company at meal-times of the usual ob- 
streperous citizens. Of course one can always escape 
such company by dining in one's room, but I prefer 
to observe the life of these small places. 

It being still early at my arrival, I soon returned to 
Piazza Maggiore, which, as I now observed, lay just 
a block west of the foot of the ruined fortress of the 
Estensi, — being connected with the latter by a short 
street. The broad square was paved, as at Monta- 
gnana, by medieval cobbles around the sides and gray 
flags reticulated with white lines in the middle; at its 
north centre stood a handsome relic of the Old Regime, 

— a tall, red Venetian mast upheld by a gray sand- 
stone base, carved with four lions couchant at the 
corners. Roundabout stretched a picturesque assort- 
ment of old stuccoed buildings, variegated in design 
and color, and in the form of their ground-story 
arcades. The supports of the latter were bewilderingly 
varied, showing every epoch from the Romanesque 
to the basest rococo; there was but one instance of 
pointed arches, — the fine old Gothic palazzo at the 
left end of the western side, with windows in painted 
trefoil frames, upon a checkered body of red and 
cream. Under the arcade of the adjacent bright red 
building I later found the town's first-class caffe, 
frequented by the officers and signori. 

The eastern row of edifices was the most ancient and 



520 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

mouldering, with shops occupying the ground floors. 
The northern was centred by a pretentious Renais- 
sance palace, adorned with balustrades and Corin- 
thian pilasters on the upper stories, and topped by a 
line of dwarf obelisks. In the middle of the southern 
side stood the Palazzo Municipale, thrusting its pon- 
derous bulk forward from the row, — a stuccoed edi- 
fice with baroque windows, and a clock-face in its 
gable, resting upon a broad deep loggia of granite 
columns; these were of polished dark gray, arranged 
in couples, and sustaining flat rounded arches. The 
ringhiera-halcony projected before a central window 
of triple arches, over which was an inscription stating, 
"Da qui— Garibaldi— parlo — 26 Febbraio, 1867." 
Where did he not speak, ^ — that tireless patriot .? 

At the back of this loggia I observed a lifelike bronze 
bust of Vittorio Emanuele II, before a marble niche; 
and upon the third story of the right wing I noticed 
the old Estense arms in large relief, — a Roman warrior 
and a female standing beside a shield carved with a 
heavily battlemented castle of three towers, the cen- 
tral highoipt. There being nothing of importance to 
see within this palace, which was so long the seat of 
the Venetian Podestas, I took the short eastern street 
to the foot of the hillside, gazing as I walked at the 
picture afforded by its verdant slope. The broad 
grassy descent was dotted with small trees, and en- 
folded by the ancient, battlemented walls of the Este 
fortress, which curved down on each hand from the 
ruined citadel at the summit. Of this citadel, the 
primary residence of that great family in the Dark 
Ages, there remained visible but a semicircular brick 
wall, concave in shape, tall and crenelated, reaching 
from one shattered square tower to another, with the 
lofty donjon of the castle still soaring skyward from 



ESTE 521 

the middle; all were beautifully covered with ivy, 
jclimbing over every part and drooping from the battle- 
ments.^ From the flanking keeps the enceinture walls 
descended in successive steps to the plain; each step 
marked by another tower, broken and overgrown, a 
mere shell of its quondam solidity. 

The Estensi themselves descended, as time ad- 
vanced, from that primeval rocca to a more civilized 
habitation at the bottom of the slope, built just within 
the basic line of the fortress; by the time they removed 
to Ferrara this had been extended to nearly the full 
length of that line, and embraced the outer wall itself, 
over which the palace looked westward upon the town 
with a myriad of grim windows, turrets and towers. 
Of what stirring scenes and princely pageants was it 
not the theatre, — that vanished medieval abode, so 
picturesque and celebrated, furnished in the most 
lavish manner of the later Middle Age. In the Renais- 
sance epoch, when its owners had removed to Ferrara, 
it was covered with stucco and gradually altered ac- 
cording to the ideas of the classic revival, to fulfill 
its new position as the villa of a cultured prince. But 
following the transfer of Este to Venice, during the war 
of the League of Cambrai and other troublous times of 
the cinquecento, the deserted palace several times took 
fire, burning wing by wing, till naught remained stand- 
ing but the central portion. This was finally acquired 
by Doge Mocenigo, who remodeled it to serve his 
family as a country villa, and the ruined parts were 
cleared away. So it has continued to the present day, 
the villa being seized by the authorities of late, for 
use as a museum of the antiquities of the town ; beside 

^ These three ancient towers, it is very interesting to note, were without 
doubt the originals of the three depicted on that coat-of-arms which 
became one of the most famous in the world. 



522 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

which they have built a new "Istituto Femminile," 
on a portion of the ground once covered by the pal- 
ace's left wing. 

What I now beheld, therefore, as I advanced to the 
street running north and south along the foot of the 
slope, — - the street that formerly bordered the basic 
wall of the fortress, — was the original, battlemented, 
brick wall itself, still standing, except in the middle 
portion, where it was broken by the edifices of the 
Villa Mocenigo; at the far angles, two blocks distant 
from each other, stood the old corner towers of the 
enceinture, square and shattered. The central build- 
ings were in three parts, all relics of the Estense Pal- 
ace : at the left rose a two-storied structure, of rough 
brick and cobblestones below, in alternate courses, 
and stucco-work above, with rusticated windows; 
next came a brick wall of five filled arches containing 
three doors and two windows, behind which rose a 
two-storied brick edifice apparently unaltered from 
Estense days, decorated with five small white-stucco 
shields of the family arms; before it stood the life-size 
plaster figure of a Roman warrior, astride of a shield 
in Perugino's manner. The left-hand doorway here was 
marked, "Museo"; before it on a column, standing 
upon a heap of rocks surrounded by evergreen shrubs, 
was posed a modern bronze bust of the poet-patriot, 
Felice Cavallotti, who was a resident of Este. To the 
right of this stretched what was apparently a low, 
stuccoed common dwelling. The old brick wall on 
each side of these buildings was prettily draped with 
ivy, which at the northern end hung like a scarlet 
blanket from the battlements. 

Two gateways were visible in these stretches of 
wall, closed by iron grilles. Advancing to the south- 
ern one, I saw within a sort of little park covering the 



ESTE 523 

level space, shaded by fine trees, clearly a remnant of 
the princely grounds of the Estensi. The other 
wicket, near the northern end, proved to open into 
the area taken for the female institute; behind a fair 
extent of turf and flower-beds stood the modern 
building, — a quietly designed edifice of stucco; and 
behind that rose the picturesque old northern wall 
of the fortress, climbing the verdurous hillside in suc- 
cessive steps, with ivy-grown towers. 

Continuing northward on this same street, through 
a block of decayed stucco dwellings, I reached at its end 
a cross-street, up which, to the right, was seen an 
ornamental yellow-sandstone gateway of the Renais- 
sance; behind this a charming shady avenue extended 
up the hillside, here increased in height, and covered 
with verdant terraces and stately groves. Amidst these 
bowers a large villa was glimpsed to the left, and 
near by a marble bust of Carducci gleamed against a 
sylvan background. It seemed, in the noon-heat, like 
a vista of paradise, blissful with its warblings of count- 
less unseen birds. It was — so a passer-by told me 
— the Villa Benvenuti, celebrated for its beautiful 
views across the plain, as far as the Apennines 
and the snowy Alps. The proprietors, unfortunately, 
chanced to be away, so that I could not procure 
admission. 

Turning westward upon this cross-street, and pass- 
ing the Via Cavour, upon which my inn was located, 
I reached an enormous red brick church on the right 
side of the way, of strange oval form, with a false 
front rising to three-quarter height, left rough for a 
facing never put on. It was the Cathedral of S. Tecla. 
Attached to its rear was a tall, rounded choir chapel, 
seen from one side. The fagade held three oblong 
doorways, simply framed in marble, and two unframed 



524 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

square windows over the side portals. At the left 
rear soared the handsome brick campanile to a great 
height, smoothly faced without windows, but with an 
unfinished belfry of two arches per side; before this 
stood a small stuccoed structure, of baroque lines and 
reddish hue, covering the side entrance. The baroque 
interior I visited later : its form, of a lofty oval rotunda 
capped by a flat dome, is peculiar but effective; a large 
oval fresco adorns the centre of the domed roof, from 
which radiating ribs descend to a gallery upon the 
cornice, running beneath the five oblong windows 
there inserted on each side; over the main doorway 
is a rich oaken music-loft, flamboyantly carved, de- 
corated on the bottom with six paintings in baroque 
frames; opposite opens the choir, through an arch 
nearly as lofty as the dome, its square recess having 
a separate cupola, and an apse four times taller than 
its width. Five depressed archways run along each 
side of the nave, three of them holding altars, the fourth 
holding a pulpit on one hand, the side entrance on the 
other, and the fifth framing a chapel on each hand 
beside the choir ; between these archways ascend 
Corinthian pilasters to the high cornice, which con- 
tinue also around the choir. 

The paintings were poor, with two exceptions: the 
high-altar piece was an exceptionally fine work of 
Gian Battista Tiepolo, — a huge canvas represent- 
ing Este prostrate under the plague, and the demons 
of the latter being driven away by the Almighty, 
thanks to the prayers of Santa Tecla; her upturned, 
imploring countenance was very holy and beautiful, 
and the dramatic disposition and action were quite 
successful. On the third altar to the left stood a simi- 
lar, smaller work, of golden tone, but poor in facial 
beauty save for the enchanting swarm of putti around 



ESTE 5^5 

the Father. The baptismal font of solid porphyry was 
also noteworthy. 

The second morning I devoted to the Museum, 
which proved surprisingly rich in Roman and pre- 
Roman relics. The ground-floor vestibule contained 
two interesting sculptures of the duecento, evidently 
the supports of holy-water basins ; the one portraying 
a bearded saint, the other holding three figures back 
to back, in three-quarter relief, — Adam, Eve, and the 
female tempter. The latter piece was truly remarkable. 
Mounting the grand staircase of Mocenigo's period, 
I inspected several spacious halls filled with remains 
of the stone and bronze ages, — with cases of imple- 
ments of every nature, and many vases of great value; 
the famed "graffiti" vases were specially noticeable; 
also those studded with blue nails, and the earliest 
ceramics in red and black. These Pelasgian relics are 
not surpassed anywhere, and constitute a revelation 
of the handicrafts of that mysterious race which ante- 
dated the Etruscans, — the same that built the Cyclo- 
pean walls of Spoleto and Amelia.^ 

On the ground story I was then shown two halls of 
artistic Roman remains, all — like the prehistoric ob- 
jects above — discovered in this neighborhood, and 
together establishing its occupation by civilized 
communities for thirty centuries past. The numerous 
bronzes of Latin culture, including several heads finely 
individualized and expressive, the excellent glassware, 
with specimens of Egyptian style, and especially the 
superior mosaics, all indicated a Roman settlement of 
large size and wealth, corresponding to the reports of 
history. Mosaic-work, it appears, was a prominent 
industry of Ateste, which was long famed for its deli- 

' See Hill-Towns of Italy, — Spoleto and Amelia; the Etruscan Mu- 
seum of Perugia. 



526 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

cate materials and artistic productions. Quite a num- 
ber of their sarcophagi and cinerary urns also were 
here, dug up in the adjacent necropolis. There was 
further a large quantity of the anterior Etruscan 
relics, including many good vases, — though not equal 
to the collections of Perugia and central Italy. ^ 

During the afternoons I sought out three interesting 
short walks from the piazza. One led southward on the 
main street, investigating the heterogeneous variations 
in its old arcades and polychromatic houses, which 
showed every sort of pier, column, and pillar, some- 
times colonnaded without arches, and reflecting the 
changes of twenty generations. Thus I reached the 
ancient, ruinous Church of S. Martino, on the right 
of the way, surmounted by a picturesque leaning tower 
in the centre. It appeared parallel with the street, 
behind a little close, and exhibited traces of vanished 
frescoing. The nave was extremely low and gabled, 
its narrow arched entrance being framed by two pil- 
asters and a cornice; to the left of the tottering tower 
was a Lombard drum upon the roof, with a Roman- 
esque, arcaded, brick cornice. This edifice must come 
from at least the thirteenth century. Its interior is 
said to be modernized and uninteresting; but it was 
filled with scaffolding for repairs, and I could not 
enter. 

Another stroll was westward from the piazza's 
northern end, along the broad, arcaded Via Vittorio 
Emanuele, which soon narrowed to a fantastic stuc- 
coed tower of Renaissance days, spanning the street 
with a stone archway through its ground story. The 
latter was heavily rusticated, the second story held 
a huge clock-face, and the third was an open belfry 
of double arches, framed by rusticated Doric pilasters 

^ Hill- Towns of Italy. 



ESTE 527 

of pinkish hue, and topped by forked battlements. 
It was the Porta Vecchia, — a city gate, and at the 
same time the city clock- and bell-tower; its erection 
took place, according to an inscription, in the year 
1690. Just beyond it flowed the old city moat, still 
a broad and freshly running stream, arched by a 
heavy bridge; it was the Frussine, which rises in the 
Valdagno.^ The brick garden walls extending along 
its eastern bank to the right and left, were the only 
remains of the quondam ramparts. To the west for 
some distance stretched the later quarter of the town, 
several blocks wide and long. 

To the left of the Porta Vecchia, within, stood the 
small baroque Church of S. Rocco, with a queer 
Byzantine-domed campanile like a minaret; beside it 
ran the narrow Via Monache southward, just inside 
the former town wall, lined by a series of mouldering 
dwellings of vast age, with exterior corbelled chimneys. 
At its end rose the dismantled old Church of the 
Archangel Gabriel, from which another ancient way, 
the Via S. Rocco, ran east between crumbling ar- 
cades to the Municipio; the Gothic arches showed their 
longevity. Seldom anywhere have I seen a quarter 
more forlornly aged and picturesquely decrepit. 

The third walk was westward into the newer sec- 
tion, along the street of the Duomo, through another 
former city gate. Inquiries brought me to the Chiesa 
dei Socqui, or S. Maria delle Consolazioni; in which 
large and queerly shaped edifice I found a splendid 
gem of painting, — a most beautiful specimen of Cima 

* Vide the end of chapter iv. It is formed by the junction, near Mon- 
tecchio, of the Agno and two other streams. Somewhat northwest of Este 
it is joined by the Liana, from Monti Berici, whose northern branch was 
originally the main outlet of the Bacchiglione, and was on several occasions 
utilized by the Vicentines, when at war with the Paduans, for an entire 
diversion this way of the Bacchiglione's water. See chapter ii. 



528 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

da Conegliano. It was a panel of the Madonna hold- 
ing her Child, dressed as a nun and seated before a 
dark curtain, with a slight vista of Cima's beloved 
mountains on the left. The babe looks appealingly into 
the sad, tender face of the mother, who bends her head 
to him lovingly and thoughtfully; — a scene of the 
truest simplicity and sweetest sentiment. And, for- 
tunately, it is still in good preservation. 

Another and very pleasant walk, or rather climb, 
affording inspiring views across the plain, is that to 
the village mentioned as located halfway up the hill- 
side. This may be prolonged, by trained pedestrians, 
through the saddle with the other village, and over 
the hills to Arqua, the home of Petrarch, which is 
about seven miles distant on the southeastern slopes 
of the Euganai; or the journey may be taken by 
carriage, — a delightful drive, which can be finished 
at Battaglia or Monselice. Arqua is but five miles 
from either of the latter places, so that the excursion 
to it is usually performed from one of them, — pre- 
ferably Battaglia. That was my plan; so the third 
morning fbund me again aboard an early train, on my 
way to Monselice, which I was resolved to visit in 
that one day, and reach a comfortable hotel at Ro- 
vigo by nightfall. 

Monselice (the Mons Silicis of the Romans), another 
town of eleven thousand inhabitants, owes its modern 
importance to being the junction of the railway from 
Mantua with the main line from Bologna to Padua; 
also to its location at the head of the Battaglia Canal 
to Padua, — to feed which a part of the waters of the 
Frussine are diverted eastward along the foot of the 
hills. But in olden times Monselice was far more im- 
portant, because the protecting castle which gave it 
being was until the days of modern cannon the 



MONSELICE 529 

acknowledged key to the whole region, and the chief 
defense of Padua upon the south; its position was prac- 
tically invulnerable, upon an isolated rocky pinnacle 
five hundred feet high, — at the foot of whose slope 
the town collected. This crag rises just opposite the 
southeastern angle of the Euganean Range, from 
which it is divided by only a narrow pass ; and with its 
crowning, castellated ruins, is a familiar memory to 
all travelers approaching Venice from the south. Tas- 
soni ^rote of it long ago: — 

Vien poi Monselice, in contra I'armi e i sacchi 
Sicuro gia per frode e per battaglia. 

In former times, therefore, the first object of all 
captains seeking to conquer the Polesine, or the dis- 
trict of Padua, w^as the reduction of this formidable 
fortress.^ Padua was once actually its dependency, 
under the Lombard seigneurs of the seventh century. 
It belonged from the ninth century to the Marquises 
of Este, and was consequently an object of ceaseless 
contention on the part of the Paduans, who dreaded 
its eternal menace, and often sought to capture it by 
force or stratagem. This was finally effected by Ezze- 
lino in 1237, we know not how, when he was over- 
running the territory prior to taking Padua herself; 
and the castle's seizure was the signal for the city's 

^ The Romans had a stronghold on this height, and doubtless the Celts 
and Etruscans before them; the same foundations endured through all the 
ages, and still exist. Having passed through the hands of the Ostrogoths, 
into those of Narses and the Byzantines, it was desperately held by the 
latter against the Lombards for thirty-four years after their arrival on the 
plain, constituting thus practically the last point in Italy over which 
floated the flag of the Eastern Empire, At last, in 602, the Lombards suc- 
ceeded in effecting its capture, but only — it is believed — after a long- 
drawn-out siege which won its way through hunger. Upon the conquest 
of Charlemagne the castle became the property of the Estensi, because he 
made them his feudatory lords of the whole district. 



530 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

yielding. The Estensi never forgave this wrong, nor 
rested till they had brought Ezzelino low, and recov- 
ered their fortress; but about the end of that century 
they lost it again, to the Paduans, during the disasters 
of Azzo VIII and Fresco. The commune did not long 
enjoy its coveted possession, for Can Grande della Scala 
descended upon the city in 1317, and "Monselice, the 
key of the defense of Padua, was taken by Della Scala 
through the bribery and cowardice of the garrison. 
One by one all the castles of the district came into his 
hands'';^ he manned them with powerful garrisons, 
and held them till the city gave in. 

When the Della Carrara, with the aid of their allies, 
recovered Padua from the weak grasp of Mastino II, 
in 1337, "only the castle of Monselice remained to 
the Scalas ; and soon Marsilio (della Carrara) and the 
Rossi besieged it as the most strategic point in the 
territory. It was, moreover, the key to the Polesine 
and part of the lagoons, and therefore of great political 
importance. But the fortress withstood all attacks, 
and only^ surrendered to Ubertino a year later," ^ 
presumably from famine. In due course thereafter it 
passed, with Padua, into the strong hands of Venice, 
which held it until gunpowder had annihilated its 
importance; whereupon it was suffered to decay. 

It was only about a twenty minutes' ride from Este, 
straight east along the foot of the hills, accompanied by 
the slender branch of the Frussine on the left; the curv- 
ing lofty slopes, hardly a mile away, never looked more 
beautiful, in their variegated blanket of green fields 
and yellow foliage, combined with the livelier glisten 
of white-walled villages. We joined the main line, turned 
liorth upon it, and running a short distance between 
the hills and the precipitous crag of Monselice, which 

^ Cesare Foligno, Story of Padua. * Ibid. 



MONSELICE 531 

now appeared on the right, stopped at its station, to 
the northwest of the town. Depositing my luggage, 
I at once walked down the tree-lined highway of ap- 
proach, which wound toward the southwestern base 
of the mighty rock; its western face was sheer preci- 
pice for the first two or three hundred feet, showing 
the bright feldspathic stone uncovered by vegetation, 
which made the ruined fortress on the pointed summit 
appear quite inaccessible. No one could here discern 
that the other sides were gentle, verdurous declivities. 
I reached that reminder of ancient civilization, still 
in excellent condition, — the Battaglia Canal, — and 
saw before me the old western city wall, stretching 
along its farther bank; this was built of stone, and 
still preserved its grim battlements, and shattered 
towers rising at intervals. Shortly to the left it ended 
at the northwestern bastion, whence I saw the north- 
ern rampart running east toward the rock. The former 
city gate, — if there was any, — at the end of the 
bridge which I now traversed, had entirely vanished. 
One block to the east I reached the main street, 
running south to the town's centre; this was the Via 
Umberto I, lined by three-storied stucco houses with- 
out arcades, with a modern look because of repainting; 
but the colors here had not the vividness of Este and 
Montagnana. A few minutes more brought me to a 
striking Renaissance palazzo, rising to the left on the 
first incline of the hill, opposite a short arcade filled 
with shops and caffes; it was a stuccoed edifice with 
curious, heavy, gray-stone trimmings, and faced by a 
colonnaded portico of the latter material. To the left 
of the portico opened a massive, rusticated, arched por- 
tal, twenty feet high, and across the first floor stretched 
an enormously heavy, balustraded, stone balcony, 
fully forty feet long. Immediately beyond came the 



532 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

central cross-roads, whose left arm climbed the hill- 
side in steps for fifty yards, between the Palazzo Muni- 
cipale on its left and the Monte di Pieta on its right. 
The former was a simple stucco building, entered by 
its right side, from the steps, holding beside the portal 
a tablet to Garibaldi adorned with dainty bronze 
foliage; another tablet, on the front, was inscribed to 
Vittorio Emanuele II, saying that he carried the 
Italian arms here on August 1, 1866, and concluding 
rhapsodically, — "Oh! Momento! — Dieci lustri di 
lutti e catene — vendicati!"^ 

This was a remarkably picturesque spot. The build- 
ing of the Monte di Pieta bore on its second story a 
charming Renaissance loggia, three arches wide and 
two bays deep, approached by a handsome open 
stairway of two flights, — all in creamy stucco, with 
gray sandstone trimmings ; and in its side wall it held a 
graceful double-arched window, with a balustrade and 
diamond bars. The broad street-stairway mounted 
past the latter, to the face of an imposing Gothic 
palace fifty yards up the steep slope, before which it 
turned abruptly to the right, and continued ascending 
southeastward. The piano nobile of the palace con- 
tained a stately row of six double-arched trefoil 
windows, on a body of red and creamy blocks 
formed into large diamonds ; over its roof rose a grand 
old battlemented stone tower, and far above that 
soared the precipitous hillside, to its castellated peak. 

Turning round from this vista, I saw the central 
Piazza Vittorio Emanuele extending eastward, and 
then south, in the shape of a broad "L"; lined on the 
right side by mouldering stucco arcades and houses, 
and dominated by the picturesque old city clock-tower 

^ "Oh! Illustrious Moment! — Fifty years of sorrows and chains — 
revenged!" 



MONSELICE 533 

at the farther end. This was also of crumbHng stucco, 
with no opening below its belfry of triple arches, 
crowned by forked battlements; before its base curved 
a graceful white loggia of Renaissance design, orna- 
mented with Corinthian half-columns between the 
arches. To its left, after two buildings, was visible a 
section of the ancient city wall close behind, of the im- 
pressive height of three full stories. The piazza was 
well flagged in gray stone, and the aged edifices round- 
about were gayly colored in soft tints of pink, lavender 
rose, orange, and vermilion. 

I followed the Via Umberto farther southward, 
through arcades on the right hand only, to another and 
smaller piazza, of triangular form, where the main 
street forked ; one branch continuing along the south- 
ern base of the hill, the other running southward to 
Rovigo; each leading between simple houses, soon 
broken by shady gardens of villas. To the left here 
rose a ponderous Renaissance palazzo of four stories, 
resting upon an arcade of heavy square stone pillars, 
with equally heavy balustrades, fancifully wrought 
in sandstone or cement, adorning all the round-arched 
windows. Clearly the aristocracy of this place in 
Venetian days were families •bf much wealth. Return- 
ing to the main piazza, I climbed the street-stairs up 
the hillside, veering southward before the Gothic 
palace, where the way became a sloping promenade. 
The huge grim tower behind the palace proved to be 
a Gothic dwelling itself, very aged and ruinous, its 
windows mostly blocked or boarded up ; it was — so 
I learned — the ancient Palazzo Marcello of eventful 
history, where the Princes of Este used to reside 
when staying in the town. Whether they erected it I 
could not ascertain; but from their possession it passed 
to other noble families, who have occupied it to the 



534 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

present time. Its owner now is the Contessa Geraldi; 
but so dilapidated has its whole structure recently 
become, through vast age, that she usually resides 
in another palace on the plain. The interior is said 
to be still richly furnished, with many memorials of 
its historic past. 

Beyond its grounds came those of some hidden 
villa, stretching up the steep slope to the left in a wood 
of young trees, with cultivated turf, amongst whose 
groves a balustraded white terrace was discernible, 
crested by gleaming statues; while a long dark file of 
pointed cypresses descended along the farther bound- 
ary. Here, then, I was turning the southwestern angle 
of the hill, and reaching its more gentle and arboreous 
declines; the way continued always upward, curving 
gradually to the left, with more precipitous descents 
upon the right. Via Duomo, it was named; for it led 
to the Cathedral. Four contiguous medieval buildings 
of strange design now appeared, the last two shaped 
like battlemented towers, with other towers attached 
irregularly to their rear; it was evidently once a forti- 
fied manor) though now inhabited by families of the 
poorest class. There followed a high stuccoed wall, 
crowned with the most droll and eccentric stone stat- 
ues of misshapen dwarfs, in a long row, with enormous, 
grimacing heads and humped backs; a fine Renaissance 
archway, framed in Doric columns, permitted a vista 
of a very long stairway of many flights, flanked every 
few feet by stone statues in couples, leading straight- 
away through a greenwood to a far ornamental grotto; 
this was adorned with Doric columns and statuary 
upon its face, and topped by a balustrade with more 
statues, — a fair sight, indeed, against the sylvan 
background. To the right of it appeared a decaying 
stucco palazzo of the Renaissance, the successor of 



MONSELICE 535 

the medieval stronghold just passed, and the seat — 
as I was told — of the Conti Nani. The dwarfs were, 
therefore, a play upon the family name.^ 

On the right hand here, there extended a little shady 
terrace, whose parapet overlooked the streets of the 
town below, lying amidst a sea of dying foliage; across 
the luxuriant plain Este was clearly visible, with the 
towers of its ruined castle. The Duomo next appeared, 
upon a similar and broader terrace, rising behind a 
paved court with its left side to the road, — a singular 
location for the principal church of the town. It was a 
fair-sized, stuccoed edifice, decorated with brick pilas- 
ter-strips, an arcaded cornice along the gable, and a 
porch over the single doorway consisting of detached 
marble columns sustaining a rounded stucco archway. 
Its interior, I found, had been entirely remodeled : the 
low broad nave was without aisles or transept, and 
freshly whitewashed; over an altar against the right 
wall stood a quaint early polyptich, showing S. Gius- 
tina among six other saints, — retouched out of recog- 
nition of the original work; a second and later picture 
of S. Giustina — the church's patron — hung between 
the windows of the little choir, — a well-moulded, 
rather prepossessing figure, of the later Venetian 
school. The under side of the high-altar canopy had a 
still better painting, in the style of Palma Vecchio, re- 
presenting the Almighty in clouds, surrounded by putti, 
with his right hand outstretched in benediction; and 
over the altar to the left of the choir was a pleasing 
cinquecentoY enetian panel, of the Madonna and Child, 
uninjured by any retouching. The authors of these 
works appeared to be unknown. 

On continuing beyond the Duomo, its fine old cam- 
panile was revealed, at a rear corner, rising in five divi- 

^ "Nani" is the Italian word for dwarfs. 



536 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

sions of red brick, with as many arcaded cornices, and 
a double-arched battlemented belfry. Here the high- 
way ended at a Renaissance gateway, whose stone 
pillars were crowned by huge sculptured lions; behind 
which opened a terrace with a bayed stone parapet, 
commanding a wide view; at its back a white stuccoed 
archway admitted me to a private road extending on 
upward along the southern face of the hill, with the 
stone parapet on its right and a row of seven white 
chapels at regular intervals on the left, rising upon 
flights of steps. These were backed and separated by 
a line of delightful old cypresses. At the end loomed 
a huge mass of buildings perched on a projecting crag, 
behind which the ancient city wall descended steeply 
from the fortress to the plain. 

The walk had assumed a character of fascinating, 
unique beauty; the view was an inspiration: sprinkled 
afar through the sea of verdure below were gleaming 
towns and villages surmounted by their campanili, 
interspersed with the countless red tiles and white 
walls of separate farmhouses, ensconced in groves of 
poplars and cypresses, looking very serene and bliss- 
ful in the warm golden sunlight. Directly below lay 
the square, walled cemetery of Monselice, cypress- 
bound, with its shining chapels, stones, and monu- 
ments; and straightaway to the distant south, like a 
plumb-line, extended the ancient highway to Rovigo, 
— a splendid, unending avenue of tall golden maples or 
plane trees. I felt like Rogers, when he cried: — 

The promised land 
Lies at my feet in all its loveliness. — 
And lo! the sun is shining; and the lark 
Singing aloud for joy, — to him is not 
Such sudden ravishment as now I feel 
At the first glimpse of fair Italy! ^ 

* Rogers, Italy. 



MONSELICE 537 

The chapels contained only little cubicles, with sim- 
ple altars, surmounted each by an old canvas portrait 
of a saint; but over them were prettily draped thick 
curtains of honeysuckle vines. At the top of the ascent 
opened a flowered courtyard, backed by a handsome 
Renaissance palace covered with columns and statu- 
ary, having a dark Gothic tower at its left end. It was 
the Villa Valier, formerly Duodo; owned for centuries 
by the Conti Duodo, but now passed by the marriage 
of a surviving daughter to the historic Venetian family 
of Balbi- Valier. It had a stuccoed fagade of 1740, 
with trimmings and sculptures of gray and light-brown 
stone; the three arched portals below and the windows 
above were all flanked by pairs of half-columns em- 
bracing niches with statues; and rectangular panels of 
varied reliefs extended above the niches. On the right 
stood the small private church of the villa, with its 
apse on the very verge of the abyss, — a glistening 
white edifice with yellow garniture, faced by a three- 
arched portico, and topped by a cupola and a slender 
campanile; it was connected with the mansion by the 
latter's projecting right wing. 

The strange sight v/as upon the left : here there rose 
a high balustraded stone terrace, approached at the 
ends by two heavy opposing stairways, topped by 
giant statues, — between which opened a triple- 
arched grotto; behind it mounted a very broad and 
lofty flight of steps, to another terrace adorned with an 
artificial pyramid of rough rocks, backed by a semicir- 
cular pink wall containing a row of empty niches and 
crowned by a row of statues. The hollow pyramid 
held a shrine dedicated to St. Francis of Assisi; hence 
the whole queer construction is called the "Grotta di 
S. Francesco." Above it soared the steep upper hill- 
side, covered with vines, to the ruinous circular en- 



538 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ceinture of the castle, within which naught remained 
but the empty, massive donjon. A long straight flight 
of narrow steps climbed to it, at the left side of the 
Grotta, entered by a locked iron wicket; all this sum- 
mit of the hill belongs now to the Conte Valier, with- 
out whose permission one cannot ascend, — and at 
present he was away. To the left of the wicket ex- 
tended another wall, beautifully overgrown with vines, 
containing three niches with marble busts of the last 
Counts of Duodo. 

The custodian of the place, who had now appeared, 
conducted me through the little church, which was 
erected, he said, about 1600. It was a graceful edifice, 
decorated with some taste and in perfect repair; but the 
only noteworthy feature was the presence of twenty- 
five mummified martyrs, — that is, early Roman 
Christians, — who were dug out of the Catacombs by 
Pope Paul V, about 1607, and sent to the Conte Duodo 
of that day as an invaluable gift. They reposed in cof- 
fins with glass sides, inserted in the walls of the little 
nave; and were one and all dressed in the gaudiest, 
cheapest 'circus-clothes," ornamented with an abund- 
ance of tinsel and gilt fringe, — the tawdry breeches, 
stockings, and coat-arms being slit, to expose the des- 
sicated limbs. The withered toes were purposely pro- 
truded from the shoes, but the hands were inclosed in 
coarse white gloves, — the right holding the palm- 
leaf of martyrdom, the left the cup of the Vinum San- 
guince. Above the ridiculous gilt epaulettes and neck- 
gauds projected the grinning, eyeless, fleshless skulls; 
which combined with the childish finery and exposed 
limb-bones to render the whole exhibit at once lud- 
icrous, horrible, and repulsive. 

As for the palace, I was obliged to be satisfied with 
the information that it was furnished in a style of 



MONSELICE 539 

"royal magnificence." So I returned to the town, 
procured a very late lunch, and catching a south- 
ward train about 5 p.m., arrived well before sunset 
at the pleasant old inn of the "Corona Ferrea" in 
Rovigo. 



CHAPTER XIV 

ROVIGO, ARQiUA, AND BATTAGLIA 

I leave thee, beauteous Italy ! — no more 
From the high terraces at eventide 
To look supine into thy depths of sky, — 
Thy golden moon between the cliff and me. 
Or the dark spires of fretted cypresses 
Bordering the channel of the milky way. 

— Walter Savage Landor. 

There seems to be a peculiar natural law amongst 
northern Italians that restricts their small cities to be- 
tween ten and eleven thousand population. Rovigo is 
still another of its numerous examples. This is surpris- 
ing, because Rovigo has the history, the reputation, 
and the appearance of a considerably larger town. It 
is the stately capital of a province, and of the whole 
region of the Polesine, — located about fifteen miles 
south of Monselice, three miles south of the Adige, 
and ten north of the Po, upon the canalized stream 
called the Naviglio Adigetto, which lends to the place 
a sort of Venetian aspect. Its history, its extent, its 
palaces, churches, monuments, and artistic riches, all 
indicate a past in which it was a much larger city, of 
influence and coveted wealth. Its origin goes back 
beyond Roman times, when the Latin name of the 
town — from which the Italian is derived — was 
Rhodigium, whose flowery significance bespeaks the 
fertility of the soil. Ariosto mentioned it, in the Or- 
lando Furioso, canto xli, — 

And that fair town, whose produce is the rose. 
The rose which gives its name in Grecian speech. 



s 






--- '- -^ *•,—»*- 



4 '■'^^"'^-^ 



w 





ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 541 

By situation the centre and natural metropolis of 
that fertile district, Rovigo was certainly during the 
Middle Ages the most opulent and cherished town of 
the Estensi, and following their removal to Ferrara, 
remained first in their possessions, after Modena and 
Reggio. In 1308 it was seized from the unfortunate 
Fresco by his uncle Francesco, through a coup de maiuy 
and sold at once by the latter to Padua; nine years 
later it was taken with the rest of the Paduan fiefs by 
Can Grande della Scala; but with the fall of the Scala 
kingdom after Can Grande's death, it was repos- 
sessed by the house of Este. In 1404, during a war 
waged by the Marchese Niccolo III and the Pope 
against Venice, Rovigo was violently attacked by the 
Republic's army, and her territory overrun with fire 
and sword; Niccolo, "beset by Venetian forces on land 
and water, his capital threatened by starvation, his 
subject cities in flames, was compelled to purchase 
peace by the surrender of the city and territory of 
Rovigo to Venice." ^ In 1438 they were restored to 
Niccolo by the Republic, in order to secure his alliance 
against Filippo Maria Visconti. In 1481, during the 
war of Pope Sixtus IV against the Republic, in which 
Duke Ercole d'Este had the ill- judgment to support 
the former's side, the arms of Venice once more as- 
cended the Po, ravaged the Polesine, and besieged 
its unfortunate capital. 

"By the middle of the summer [of that year] the tri- 
umph of the Venetians all along the Po was complete, 
and Rovigo became isolated. An attempt to send re- 
inforcements from Ferrara failed, and the Venetians, 
apparently not realizing its helpless situation, offered 
generous conditions if the citizens would surrender 
spontaneously. On August 14, Casparo da San Seve- 

^ E. Noyes, Story of Ferrara. 



542 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

rino entered the town in the name of the Signoria of 
Venice."^ The Peace of Bagnolo, shortly after, eon- 
firmed its cession to the Republic, with the greater 
part of the Polesine. " The loss of Rovigo was a bitter 
and humiliating blow for the Duke, — but he was too 
weak to protest. — The Golden Age [of Este] was 
gone, never to return." Alfonso, the next duke, made 
a desperate effort to recover these domains during the 
War of the League of Cambrai; but Venice, beaten and 
exhausted as she was, refused to relax her grip; and 
Rovigo remained a part of her territories until the end 
of the Republic. The city, therefore, as we now be- 
hold it, is a thoroughly Venetian town: which was 
reconstructed and adorned by its suzerain during the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. 

The railway station, where the main line connects 
with branches to Verona and Chioggia, lies some dis- 
tance to the northwest of the city; which is approached 
by an avenue of plane trees bending alternately to the 
south and the east, and finally settling itself in the 
latter direction upon entering the old town itself. Here 
it becomes the Via Umberto I, — a broad straight 
thoroughfare without arcades, running between four- 
storied stucco dwellings and Venetian palaces; and 
here upon the left is located the excellent "Corona 
Ferrea," — or Inn of the Iron Crown, — recently re- 
christened, by the man who has endowed it with mod- 
ern comforts and cleanliness, as "Bracchi's Hotel." It 
was the best hostelry that I had found since leaving 
Verona, at the same time of very reasonable prices ; and 
the usual traveler could do no better than make it his 
head-quarters, while visiting the various places in the 
vicinity. 

On the morning after my arrival, I started eastward 

^ E. G. Gardner, Ariosto: the King of Court-Poets. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 543 

to the central piazza, examining, as I slowly proceeded, 
the interesting edifices of the street. Immediately to 
the right, at the angle of the Via Minilli, rose a splen- 
did old Gothic palazzo of the Venetian type : four sto- 
ries high, of stucco, with colonnaded trefoil windows 
in the middle of the first two fioors, flanked by 
single windows of the same design with balconies of 
flamboyant tracery; the eaves being graced by a curi- 
ous parapet made of large stucco fleurs-de-lys. Back 
of this on the side street was a contrasting Renais- 
sance palace, of stucco, red brick, and terra-cotta, 
equally charming in design; each of its three stories 
held a large central archway, flanked by two pairs of 
double arched windows, all with bright frames and 
pillars of brick, — the windows topped by winged cotta 
medallions with busts; another feature was the four 
beautiful pilaster-strips reaching from ground to bat- 
tlements, made of brick with fine open tracery of terra- 
cotta. 

A pretty little terraced garden on its left looked 
down upon a dark stream that here appeared, flowing 
eastward between quays shaded by endless rows of 
big horse-chestnut trees; it was the Naviglio Adigetto. 
Thoroughly Venetian was this picturesque scene: the 
muddy water, twenty yards in breadth, was sunk 
deeply between its old brick embankments, broken at 
intervals by steps descending to landings ; a succession 
of bridges, of stone, brick, and iron, marked the long 
vista on each hand, dusky beneath its dense, arching 
foliage, — so dense that it concealed all but the first 
stories of the aged stucco buildings facing the quays. 
Here was the original grand thoroughfare of the town, 
that gave it life and prosperity for many ages before 
the present; and still there remained a fair part of 
that water-borne traffic, — evidenced by the three 



544 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

barges which I saw slowly advancing. Their method 
of propulsion was the laboring one of four centuries 
ago, — long poles thrust against the bottom by men 
walking from prow to stern. The innumerable bridges 
prevent the use of the tow-line. Silent, however, were 
the confining rows of houses, and nearly deserted were 
the shady quays; on the southern bank a medieval 
brick tower soared far into the sky, broad, windowless, 
and shattered at the top, — the donjon-keep, as I 
later found, of the ruined Venetian citadel. 

As I retook my way eastward on Via Umberto, which 
now changed its name to Via Angeli, continuous ar- 
cades sprang up on the left side, and on the right ap- 
peared a great Renaissance palace of imposing lines; 
its stuccoed body emphasized the ponderous arched 
portal of rusticated stone, topped by a balustrade, the 
stone-framed baroque windows, and the third-story 
pediment with its shield of arms and Roman trophies. 
Opposite this rose a handsome palazzo of unique de- 
sign, — every brick of its fagade being separately rus- 
ticated, and of lavender hue with light-gray trimmings, 
over a dark-brown stucco arcade. There followed it 
an impressive, long colonnade of heavy Doric columns, 
extending before many different edifices. 

Then the street ended; and a short turn to the north 
debouched at once into the central piazza. But at this 
very angle on the left, fronting eastward, I found the 
splendid Palazzo Roncalli, erected by Sammicheli in 
1555 : three huge rusticated arches, of stucco cleverly 
imitating stone, with mouthing bearded heads upon 
the keystones, formed the ground loggia; in the piano 
nohile opened six handsome arched windows, with bal- 
ustrades, divided by Ionic pilasters, all in dark-gray 
stucco or cement; and the third story held a series of 
small quadrangular windows, below the heavy cornice. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 545 

Immediately beyond it, through a lofty archway, I 
entered the southwest corner of the spacious, impos- 
ing, and picturesque Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. 

It was delightfully Venetian, in its characteristics 
of size, dignity, and grace, combined with a manifest 
unaltering age. The southern third was paved with 
cobbles for horse-traffic, the rest, with worn gray flags; 
the greater length of the parallelogram, however, 
was from east to west. In the centre stood a heroic 
marble figure of the victorious king, and south of it 
rose the glorious old Venetian Lion, upon a tall marble 
shaft. On all sides extended tall arcades, — those at 
the north including the second-story windows. The 
arches were all rounded; the first columns of the 
southern side were a splendid Corinthian series, of 
marble; in the middle of the western side stretched 
a ponderous, stuccoed, Doric colonnade; but' else- 
where the supports were chiefly quadrangular stuccoed 
piers or pillars. The buildings were likewise stuccoed, 
of three or four stories, colored in soft tints of brown 
and green. At the left end of the northern side the prin- 
cipal caffe was in evidence, protruding its throng of 
tables and chairs far out upon the pavement. 

In the adjacent angle, facing east, stood the Palazzo 
Comunale with the bell-tower on its left; the latter 
rose in four divisions, — a rusticated stone base, two 
long stages of plain, windowless stucco, and a balus- 
traded Renaissance belfry, of a single arch on each side. 
Beside its base extended two broad stucco arches of 
brown hue, the right one covering a narrow street dart- 
ing west, with an open marble stairway from the street 
to the upper floor ; to the left of the latter on the rear 
wall of the loggia I saw a marble medallion with a 
fair bust of Dante, and an inscription dated 1865. The 
upper floor was adorned with a beautiful nine-arched 



546 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

window on square pillars, of brown stucco; the central 
arch forming a niche in which stood a life-size marble 
statue of the Madonna, in the style of Sansovino, 
holding a Child that gazed forth very prettily and 
naturally; before it projected a baroque ringhiera- 
balcony, whose heavy balustrade continued along the 
entire colonnade. The frieze overhead was a series of 
frescoed panels, — coats-of-arms and medallions, in 
varying brown shades, centred by a relief of the shield 
of Rovigo. Two more reliefs, modern busts, graced the 
opposing end walls of the loggia : one of the poet, Felice 
Cavallotti, with adornments in the way of wreaths, 
a spread eagle, a lion's head, etc. ; the other of Giuseppi 
Mazzini, likewise decorated. All this was really but 
the ornamental portion of the Municipio's fagade; 
for the city occupied also the upper floors of the plain 
building on the right, up to and beyond the corner, 
including the suites devoted to the city library and 
art collection; the latter being approached by another 
entrance, marked "Accademia dei Concordi," ad- 
jacent to the caffe upon the left. 

Another interesting structure I observed at the 
piazza's southeastern angle, facing north, — the pa- 
lazzo of the "Universita Popolare": this was faced by 
an extravagant, nondescript portico, fan-shaped in 
plan, rising upon a flight of seven or eight steps; the 
tall, rusticated arches, of gray stucco simulating stone, 
were separated by half-columns that continued above 
the cornice, bearing plaster Roman trophies, of odd 
appearance. Back of this rose a lofty gabled wall, 
adorned solely with two great shields of arms, be- 
tween reclining figures, flags, and warlike instruments, 
all modeled in stucco. Under the portico were some 
modern busts in circular niches. Judicious was Lord 
Broughton's remark, that "there is no country which 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 547 

can contend with Italy in the honors heaped upon the 
great men of past ages. . . . There is scarcely a vil- 
lage in which the traveler is not reminded of the birth, 
or the residence, or the death, or the actions of one 
or more of the offspring of a soil fruitful in famous 
men." ^ 

From the right end of the northern side of the piazza, 
the Via Orefici led me in one block to the Piazza Gari- 
baldi, — a smaller space, yet of good general size; in 
its centre I observed a splendid equestrian bronze 
statue of the hero, very lifelike and powerful. On its 
west side rose the new, stuccoed building of the post- 
office, in Renaissance style, with a trio of handsome 
arched windows. From its east side another street 
conducted me shortly to the Porta S. Bartolommeo 
in the old city wall, — a huge round archway topped 
by brick battlements; the wall itself was vanished, 
supplanted by a line of houses toward the south. Fol- 
lowing the narrow way before these, I quickly crossed 
the Adigetto, — a fair vista with its long straight 
quays and luxuriant shade trees; to the left an an- 
cient dwelling of purple hue, crowned by pointed 
battlements, backed upon the stream a garden that 
was one great mass of rose-bushes and -vines, the lat- 
ter shaped into an arcaded parapet along the water. 
Beyond this soared far into the blue a colossal old 
guard-tower of the ramparts, occupied by a modern 
five-storied habitation, two windows broad, which 
nevertheless did not reach to its summit. Another 
ponderous arched gateway succeeded, spanning a 
street upon which I returned to the west; very soon 
it brought me to an enormous brick church on the 
left, facing westward over a small, dilapidated piazza. 
It was Rovigo's Cathedral, — "II Redentore." 

* Lord Broughton, Remarks Made in Severed Visits to Italy (1816-54). 



548 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

This edifice — which is more directly reached by 
turning southward at the end of Via Angeli (sopra) — 
has an apse, a drum, and a transept, all of massive size 
commensurate with the nave. It is a recent building, 
not a hundred years old. The unfinished fagade is of 
rough brickwork, with three plain doorways, crowned 
by a statue of Christ in the middle; the vast interior 
is well proportioned and designed, in pleasing Renais- 
sance lines that avoid over-adornment and escape the 
baroque. The lofty vaulted nave has three deep altar 
recesses in each whitened wall, arched, and divided 
by huge Corinthian columns, that sustain the contin- 
uous, heavy block cornice. The dark semicircle of 
choir stalls is richly carved, and near by stands a 
magnificent bronze candelabrum of the high-Renais- 
sance, sculptured in the lavish style of Riccio; three 
bound slaves are figured around the base, charming 
little putti sit with folded arms about the upper shaft, 
and other delicate forms of exceeding grace and nat- 
uralness are wrought throughout the luxuriance of 
ornamentation. Although I made every effort for sev- 
eral days to ascertain the sculptor, nothing appeared 
to be known except that it had been handed down for 
centuries in the chapter. The paintings here were 
decadent and uninteresting. 

Continuing westward from the Duomo, I reached in 
another block the so-called Piazza del Castello, on the 
southern bank of the Naviglio, — a long narrow space 
fronted by aged, grimy, stucco dwellings; directly back 
of which, entered through a short alley, stretched the 
enceinture of the ancient citadel. Of its buildings 
naught remained but two shattered brick towers, lean- 
ing in opposite directions, — the taller of which I had 
remarked from the opposite bank, — and the southern 
wall of the castle, some twenty feet high, curving out- 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 549 

wardly from one keep to the other. The enormous 
height of the stern windowless donjon — fully two 
hundred and fifty feet — indicates the former size 
and power of this medieval fortress of the Estensi; 
here their governors resided, and the princes them- 
selves, when visiting the town; here the Venetian 
Podestas in their turn held for centuries a semiregal 
sway. The scene of so much grandeur was now a re- 
fuse-littered farmyard, with a few stunted trees and 
a weedy, neglected garden. 

That afternoon I paid my visit to the most import- 
ant church of the town, both historically and artist- 
ically, by returning to Piazza Garibaldi and strik- 
ing north from it a short distance. Here, behind a 
small area, rose the grand old edifice of S. Francesco, 
fronted by a later, eighteenth-century fagade of 
stucco; four massive Ionic half -columns supported the 
pediment of the nave, and two Ionic pilasters adorned 
each of the lower wings; the pediment was filled with 
a group of large plaster figures representing the Ma- 
donna amidst various saints, and five statues of other 
saints graced the eaves. The interior was of similar 
lines to the Duomo, but somewhat smaller, — a work, 
however, truly of the High-Renaissance period, and 
of attractive dignity and graceful proportions. Its 
importance lay in the paintings that remained from 
the same period. 

The chief of these I found over the first altar to the 
right, a picture so glorious that it alone was well worth 
the journey to Rovigo: it was an exceptionally large 
panel by Cima da Conegliano, depicting the Baptism 
of Christ, — and remarkably well preserved. The 
Christ stands at the left in a small pool of water, and 
St. John at the right, slightly higher, emptying with 
one hand the blessed cup; at the extreme left kneels 



550 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

a small winged angel holding a garment; overhead is 
a brilliant burst of golden sun-rays, from whose centre 
appears the descending Dove, with two tiny angels 
visible just above it, extending a white scarf in crescent 
form; in the rolling masses of red-gold clouds many 
little flying cherubs are seen; the background exhibits 
a fair blue lake, with a walled and towered city on its 
verge, overhung by an immense, rocky, and fantastic 
crag. The work is most admirable for its peculiar tone 
of burnished bronze, its luminous color-scheme and 
glossy finish, its efiFective composition, and its grace- 
ful, lifelike, finely modeled figures, agitated by sin- 
cere emotions. It has many points of likeness with 
the master's great Baptism in S. Giovanni in Bragora, 
Venice; and was executed considerably later than that 
masterpiece, in 1513, -— according to the date at the 
top of the unique Renaissance frame. 

This frame was the original inclosure adopted by 
Cima, because he adorned it with several figures: on 
the pedestals of the columns are painted St. Louis and 
St. Anthony of Padua to the right. Saints Roch and 
Francis to the left; on the middle of the base is a me- 
dallion containing a crowned and crucified Christ, 
most beautiful and touching, full of tenderest feeling 
and expression; and in the pediment is visible the aw- 
ful form of the Almighty, seated with one hand upon 
a globe, the other pointing heavenward, the hair and 
beard flying, and the cloak blown above his head, by 
a gale so realistic that one seems to hear it roar. — The 
second altar to the right held another large tavola, also 
excellent, by Domenico Panetti, the Ferrarese: it re- 
presented the Madonna throned between Saints Peter 
and Andrew, with a vase of the prettiest, most natural 
flowers standing on the pavement before the throne, 
and two crowns depending by beads from the front 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 551 

corners of the surmounting canopy. The Virgin was 
quite Peruginesque in face and attitude, very grace- 
fully moulded, with folded hands and little feet peep- 
ing from under her simple blue robe, — altogether a 
most enchanting figure. The Babe and the two elderly 
saints were not of so high a standard; but the tone 
and finish were richly golden, and the background dis- 
played the far Lombard plain, poetically shrouded in 
the blue haze of a summer's day. 

At the end of the right transept I found a large and 
dramatic Descent of the Holy Ghost, by that rare 
artist, Girolamo Carpi of Ferrara, — a work of ex- 
traordinary vividness and intensity, with most real- 
istic and expressive figures. The Madonna, for once 
at least, is portrayed at her proper age; the apostles 
are plainly stricken with awe and amazement; there 
is no visible background, but overhead hangs a dark- 
lined cloud with a blazing centre, whose flames burst 
downward through a dozen apertures. The high-altar 
piece was another fine work, though much injured by 
time: in a glory of clouds appeared a very lovely 
Madonna, surrounded by a group of charming angels; 
below stood Francis of Assisi between two other 
saints, accompanied by the two kneeling donors, — 
Cavaliere Amelio Silvestri and his wife. It was an ex- 
ceptionally good specimen of Benvenuto Tisi, called 
Garofalo. 

Adjacent to the left transept I was shown a hand- 
some sacristy. Here there was a large stone relief of 
1572, representing the Virgin between Saints Lawrence 
and John the Baptist, — fairly well done. Over one 
doorway hung a beautiful though damaged canvas by 
Giovanni Cariani of Bergamo, in his most Palmesque 
style, depicting St. Francis presenting the donor to 
the throned Madonna; the attractive Virgin exhib- 



552 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ited a decided resemblance to Palma's celebrated 
model, and the Child, leaning forward with an inter- 
ested look, was unusually winsome and intelligent. 
Over another door was an anonymous picture of the 
same school, — a Holy Family with St. Catherine, 
to whom the Babe stretches forth his tiny hands, in 
delight; though not of so high an order as the other, 
it was prettily designed and of good significance. The 
chamber was filled with a lot of fine old carved fur- 
niture, richly foliated, — presses, tables, and chairs. 

A little to the northeast of this I found the curious 
church called La Rotonda, or La Chiesa Municipale, 
because it was reconstructed and adorned by the city 
in 1887. It is a huge octagon, both inside and out, sit- 
uated at the northern end of an astonishingly broad 
avenue lined by even files of stuccoed dwellings, — 
named the Piazza Venti Settembre. It is surrounded 
by a broad one-storied portico, also octagonal, whose 
level roof is upheld by a continuous colonnade of 
massive Doric columns of stucco, which lend to the 
edifice a peculiar dignity. On its north side, detached, 
in a little shady court, rises the tremendous brick cam- 
fanile to a gigantic height, embellished with white 
stone trimmings, a baroque belfry, and an octagonal 
Byzantine lantern. In the corridor of the portico I ob- 
served many old monuments, tombs, and inscriptions, 
of every epoch. The interior presented a unique ap- 
pearance, — a vast rotunda without aisles or columns, 
encircled by choir stalls and rows of immense can- 
vases, capped by a flat painted roof. 

The stalls were of carved oak, against an oaken wain- 
scoting, separated by benches from the central space; 
they were broken by simple doorways on three sides, 
and a single huge gilt altar on the fourth; over the 
paneling extended a line of decadent, ^eicento paintings. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 553 

then a circle of niches in gilded frames, seven per side, 
— three occupied by black wooden statues and four 
by smaller pictures ; then another row of large canvases, 
two per side; and finally, the line of windows, three 
per side, in gilt frames with Corinthian pilasters, just 
beneath the cornice of blue and gold. A quadrangular 
space before the altar was railed off for the choir, upon 
the old marble pavement of checkered red and cream. 
The painted roof, I was told, was a modern work of 
stretched canvas. All these pictures were more or less 
poor, even ugly, but the edifice itself was a most in- 
teresting freak of neo-classicism. 

I beheld some first-class paintings, however, when I 
repaired to the city gallery, on the second morning. 
Entering by the door beside the caffe, I mounted a grand 
staircase at the end of a dark passage, and at its top 
found the municipal library occupying a spacious rear 
chamber; the front chamber, still larger, contained 
the body of the art collection, but the flower of it was 
gathered in a small room between the others. This 
gallery is a recent aggregation of old pictures, which 
a generation ago were scattered through Rovigo's 
churches and convents, and in private collections of 
noble families that had descended from Renaissance 
days; the palaces of the Campanari, the Mattomi, 
the Ferrari, the Silvestri, the Basaiti, all had accumu- 
lations of note, which, as Lanzi remarked, "abounded 
with many celebrated figure painters, no less of the 
Venetian than of other Italian schools," and which 
to-day, save for some alienations, are here assembled. 
The Casa Barufi alone seems to have kept its paintings 
at home. 

The exhibit in the smaller room was of amazing 
value, for so small a town and gallery. Nearly every 
picture of the several score was worth careful atten- 



554 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

tion, and a large proportion were works of the first 
class. Of a special interest were the few specimens of 
the earliest Venetian school; foremost among them a 
singular panel of St. Lucy and her miracles, signed by 
"Quiricius De Joanes d' Alemagna, 1462,"^ — the 
full-length figure of the saint, in her dress of cloth-of- 
gold, being moulded with much charm, and crowned 
by two tiny putti; while the miracles are depicted in 
six small tableaux at the sides. There were also of that 
period a Coronation of the Virgin by Luigi Vivarini 
the Elder, in bad condition (number 158) and a Ma- 
donna with S. Agnese byBartolommeo Vivarini, really 
graceful in its lines (number 204). By Carpaccio there 
was a Holy Family, of finely modeled half -figures, now 
much faded (number 205); by Cima da Conegliano, 
a lovely seated half -figure of the Madonna with her 
Child, before a pleasant far landscape of green slopes 
and blue mountains (number 207) ; by Gentile Bellini 
(signed, 1501) a beautiful Madonna, with the Babe 
posed before her on a table, seated on white cushions, 
— showing what enchanting pietistic work he could do 
when he wished (number 208) ; and by Giovanni Bellini 
were two splendid specimens : a well-preserved, glow- 
ing panel of the Madonna and Child (signed, 1516), 
she clad in a scarlet cloak, and of exquisite flesh-work, 
the Babe extremely winsome (number 206); and a 
Marriage of St. Catherine, somewhat retouched but 
still very attractive, with the faces of the women 
charmingly rounded and seraphic (number 210). 

Of the succeeding generation there were equally 
grand examples, — chief among them four delightful 
Palma Vecchios: two were lifelike portraits (numbers 

^ According to Crowe and Cavalcaselle, this Quiricius was a pupil of 
Giovanni d' Alemannus. The painting is esteemed of priceless value: it 
came from the Campanari collection. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 555 

183-84) ; the third, a group of the Madonna and Saints 
Elena and Girolamo, nearly life-size, in good condi- 
tion, with forms and countenances of striking beauty, 
in his usual warm golden tone (number 186) ; and the 
fourth, a similar group, of the Madonna between 
Saints Roch and John, unfortunately mostly ruined, 
but the Virgin still of tender loveliness (number 187). 
There were three Pordenones, — two of them poor 
portrait heads (numbers 159-60), the third a group 
of Saints Lucy, Agnes, and Catherine, all from the 
same model, pleasingly rounded but of no expression, 
and badly faded (number 161). There were five por- 
traits by Tintoretto, the best being of Doge Andrea 
Gritti, — a powerful head (number 163) ; a life-size, 
impressive figure of St. Paul by Sebastiano del Pi- 
ombo (number 182) ; a Circumcision in the manner of 
Catena, signed by Marco Belli (number 211) ; a splen- 
did large Scourging of Christ, by Bonifazio, so su- 
perior that it was long accredited to Giorgione (num- 
ber 200), and a picture of the infants, Jesus and John, 
playing with a lamb, by Titian, badly darkened but 
still of much charm (number 192). I observed further 
a retouched copy of one of Titian's Madonnas (num- 
ber 194); a copy of the famous head in Giorgione's 
Bearing of the Cross, formerly at Vicenza, — executed 
by Basaiti, according to Crowe and Cavalcaselle ^ 
(number 202) ; a small head of a young man, very nat- 
ural and strong, from the school of Giorgione, — and 
perhaps by himself (number 203) ; and a very effective 
portrait by G. B. Tiepolo (number 185). From the 
Veronese school, finally, came a very quaint though 
confused Adoration of the Magi, by Paolo's master, 

^ " In which Lombard regularity of features and gloss of surface are so 
marked, that the picture has been thought worthy of Leonardo da Vinci. 
The execution betrays the hand of Basaiti, or Pre vi tali." 



556 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Badile (number 176). In a case at one side there 
reposed a few old illuminated books, including a 
Bible with unusually large pictures, by the school of 
Giotto; and at another side lay a glass-covered Re- 
naissance mould, relieved with the most exquisite pos- 
sible arabesques and minute figures. The front hall, 
many times larger and loftier, was filled with a throng 
of inferior works; but amongst them my eye caught at 
once a fine example of the rare Jacopo Valentina, of 
Ceneda, — a small Madonna and Child (number 61); 
also a panel of Christ bearing the Cross, by Mantegna, 
much injured but still very characteristic (number 
107), and a good Ecce Homo by Gianpetrino (number 
109). Of further interest were a Domenichino, — 
St. Jerome in the desert, of his usual manner (number 
131), an interesting large canvas of the Magi by Fe- 
derigo Zuccari (number 114), and four life-size figures 
of saints by Dosso Dossi, of conspicuous grace and col- 
oring (numbers 147, 151) ; also a copy of one of Peru- 
gino's Madonnas, and an admirable Madonna with two 
infants from the school of Raphael (number 90) . By 
foreign masters there were several pieces of note: a 
small Nativity, very quaint and interesting, signed by 
Holbein Luca von Ley den (number 71), a Madonna 
crowned by S. Zaccaria, by Jan Mabuse, 1528 (num- 
ber 76) , a Christ crowned with thorns by Jan Holbein 
(77), a superb portrait of Ferdinand I by the same, 
— or, as some critics assert, by Hans von Schwaz 
(number 75), and three excellent small studies said to 
be by Albrecht Diirer, — which is doubtful, — depict- 
ing a Venus, a Christ bearing the Cross, and Adam 
and Eve (numbers 78, 79, 80). — Altogether, as before 
remarked, this is an astonishing gallery for its size and 
location, and well worth a day's examination. 

On my last day at Rovigo I paid a visit to the old 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 557 

Casa Barufi, situated shortly beyond the Duomo, 
within whose walls that prominent and once wealthy 
family have dwelt since Renaissance times. I found 
the mansion divided by a broad hallway running to 
the shady garden in the rear; narrow stairs at the left 
conducted me to a similar hall above, where the fam- 
ily's collection of pictures had hung apparently undis- 
turbed for four hundred years. Frames and panels 
alike were worm-eaten, and all were obscured by the 
agglomerated dirt of centuries. The several score of 
paintings were productions almost entirely of the cin- 
quecento, with a remarkable predominance of great 
names, to whom for the most part they seemed to me 
justly accredited; though not works of the first import- 
ance, they were valuable for their freedom from re- 
touching, and a thorough cleaning would soon remove 
the accumulated grime. The most valuable specimen 
was an undeniable, attractive panel of Giovanni Bel- 
lini, representing the Madonna with her Child and St. 
Anne, between two standing, manly figures in graceful 
quattrocento costume, of deep-red hue; it was evidently 
an early work, and, aside from the worm-holes, was in 
excellent condition. 

Two other early panels were in the manner of the 
Vivarini, both Madonnas, — one really of exceptional 
beauty; and a third, depicting the Adoration of the 
Child, with three little angels singing on the roof over- 
head, was apparently by the rare Lorenzo Parentino. 
By Paolo Veronese there were two indubitable por- 
traits, — a splendidly moulded female and a lifelike 
warrior, — as well as two life-size canvases of a charm- 
ing sibyl and a young saint. Of Tiepolo the elder 
there were three examples, — two peculiar Madonnas, 
and a Holy Family full of delightful paternal feeling; 
another Holy Family, exceedingly dirtied but still of 



558 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

true loveliness in the Madonna and the romantic land- 
scape, was unmistakably by Paris Bordone. Of more 
doubtful authority than these — executed perhaps by 
pupils, or imitators — were the two pictures in the 
style of Palma Vecchio, and the single specimens of 
the manner of Perugino, Van Dyke, Garofalo, Luca 
von Ley den, and Guido Reni; some of these, however, 
possessed very pleasing qualities, which would be 
greatly enhanced by cleansing, and could then be more 
surely passed upon. — As this curious old collection 
was under negotiation for sale when I beheld it, it will 
very likely be removed from Rovigo by the time these 
lines are read. Inquiry by any traveler of the learned 
director of the city gallery will establish the fact with- 
out trouble. 

An interesting trip may be taken from Rovigo over 
the eastern branch railway to Adria and Chioggia, 
whence the lagoon may be crossed by steamer to Ven- 
ice. Adria, from which the Adriatic derived its name, 
is now situated some fifteen miles from the ever ad- 
vancing coast-line, upon which it was in ancient times 
an important port; it is a larger place than Rovigo, 
having fifteen thousand inhabitants, yet has only two 
things, besides its old palaces, to attract the traveler's 
attention, — the collections of antiquities in the Museo 
Civico and the house of Signor Bocchi. These, how- 
ever, are not distinguished for their rarities or beauties, 
consisting in great part of Etruscan vases more or less 
shattered, whose number serves to show the size of 
the city in pre-Roman days. Chioggia is even less 
noteworthy; but it is picturesque in location and in 
its old arcaded houses, and the sail up the lagoon is 
delightful. 

On the present occasion, however, I retraced my 



^'^ 


■p^r~i 


1^ 


wg^H 


1^ 


i 








l^^l^ 


Ir 


■^ 






1 


■'Wi 


'^^i^pmp* 


JHiH«9 


'■ ^ % 


1 .■ 




^-"^=M 


: 1 






1 

\ 




■■?! 


« 


>y •' .. 




'Ml 


& 


2 . 


-• 


In 




^ 


»»il 


^^^v. 


J0 


,>^m 


M 


L ■■ _ 




f^ 


ri r^n 


n 


k 




s 


^Sfflk ' 1^ 


nl 


» 




1* ■ 


Ks-' 


ffl 


» 




1^ 


ip 


^ 


m 


f 


I" - 


' .; 






L - 


— ^ 




r 


'^ 




J 




1^ 




l^V 


fl 


fc • 




W^^V 


1 


r 




m 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 559 

steps as far as Monselice, and continued five miles be- 
yond the latter place, to the village of Battaglia, lying 
at the eastern foot of the Euganei, upon the canal 
named after it. Padua is but eleven miles to the north- 
east, and Arqua but four miles to the west, UDon a 
shoulder of the outer line of hills. In itself an insigni- 
ficant hamlet, Battaglia is distinguished by the pre- 
sence of two famous chateaux, — the great Castle of 
Cattajo, and the Villa S. Elena, of the Counts of Emo; 
it is further renowned for its therapeutic mineral 
springs of boiling temperature, to whose Stabilmento 
dei Bagni invalids flock for the cure of disorders of the 
blood and skin. 

These baths date from the days of the Romans, as 
do those of Abano six miles to the north; for since 
primeval times the whole district has continued to 
show signs of volcanic origin and activity, in the shape 
of boiling springs of water and mud, sulphuric emana- 
tions, exudations of gas, and grottoes of heated vapor; 
and in Imperial days the wide fame of its healing pow- 
ers brought enormous throngs to the various baths, 
and marked them with the seal of fashion. Abano — 
whose very name comes from bagno, or bath — was 
the Aquae Patavinse of the Romans, and a resort still 
more popular than Battaglia.^ The historian Livy was 
born there. But to-day it is a little, forgotten village 

^ The buildings erected by the ancients at Abano were of imposing 
grandeur and beauty, — baths, palaces, temples, theatres, etc. ; and in the 
gardens of her attractive villas countless great men sought reinvigoration. 
Theodoric so appreciated the healing powers of the waters that he thor- 
oughly restored the then decaying edifices. But under the Lombards, in 
601, " Agilulf burned the very ancient Baths of Abano, and destroyed the 
famous buildings raised there by the Romans." — F. Manzano, Annali del 
Friuli. — Now, in consequence, there is naught to see there worth a visit. 
There have been recent excavations, yielding returns of some value; but 
the latter have been carried away to museums. 



560 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

and the springs of Battaglia alone are still frequented. 
Ariosto wrote : - — 

— 'Twixt Brenta and Athesis, beneath those hills 
(Which erst the good Antenor so contented 
With their sulphurous veins and liquid rills, 
And mead, and field, with furrows glad indented. 
That he for these left pools which Xanthus fills. 
And Ida, and Ascanius long lamented) 
Till she a child should in the forests bear. 
Which little distant from Ateste are.^ 

The railway station proved to be several hundred 
yards west of the village; but the 'bus of the Grand 
Hotel des Thermes was in waiting, and quickly trans- 
ported me to the first houses of the borough, then 
through a gateway on the right into the beautiful park 
of the hotel. I saw its stately trees extending east to 
the high dyke of the Battaglia Canal, and southward 
in a magnificent avenue half a mile in length, to the 
right of whose termination soared a sugar-loaf hill 
crowned by a lordly Renaissance chateau, visible far 
above the foliage. This was the Castello of S. Elena, 
to which the grounds really appertained; and the 
springs, I was informed, gushed forth at the eastern 
foot of the solitary eminence, where the baths are lo- 
cated. The Grand Hotel, then, was a speculative erec- 
tion by the proprietor of the chateau a generation or 
two ago, designed with its modern luxuries to form an 
additional attraction for wealthy invalids. It occupies 
the northeastern corner of the park, facing toward the 
street to the station, with its right wing overlooking 
the canal: an enormous, stuccoed edifice of three sto- 
ries, surrounded on the park side by pleasant flowered 
gardens, through which winds the graveled drive to 
its main entrance at the southwest angle. 

From this portal, along the south side of the main 

^ Orlando Furioso, canto xli; Rose's translation. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 561 

structure, extends a vast hallway, or winter garden, 
exceedingly long and broad, and so lofty that it em- 
braces three tiers of windows on the left; on the right 
it is lighted by a row of glass-closed arches as big as 
the choir windows of a Gothic cathedral; the marble 
pavement is covered with palms and other potted 
plants, interspersed with statues and wicker tables and 
chairs. Here the hundreds of guests lounge away their 
time ; and very pleasant lounging I found it. The great 
windows open upon a wide charming flower-garden, 
backed by a grove of forest monarchs, amongst which 
is seen a grassy mound topped by an ancient ruin; to 
the west of the grove commences the superb quadru- 
ple avenue of plane trees leading southward to the 
baths. Beyond this hall one crosses a court to the long 
eastern wing, stretching southward, on whose farther 
side (or rather, front) another portal opens directly 
upon the quay of the canal. Through this I sallied 
forth soon after my arrival, — for it was still morning, 
— to take a look at the village. 

Save for the few houses along the road to the sta- 
tion, I found the hamlet to consist of two picturesque 
rows of old buildings facing each other across the 
canal, and extending northward from the hotel for sev- 
eral hundred yards; — the most unique little village, 
and one of the most pleasing in vista, that it has ever 
been my lot to encounter. Except for the architecture 
and the absence of trees, it might have been bodily 
transplanted from Holland. The recently painted 
stucco houses, of two and three stories, had also 
much of the neatness of the Dutch. The quays they 
lined so solidly were only about twenty feet wide, bor- 
dered next the water by stout brick parapets; between 
which, at a depth of several yards, the stream flowed 
peacefully to the north, mirroring in its surface the 



562 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

intense blue of the sky. It was perhaps twenty yards 
in width. A graceful brick bridge spanned it midway 
of the village with a single high arch, mounted by steps; 
a similar crossing was visible in the distance, beyond 
which the vista was terminated by a solitary group of 
very tall poplars, stripped of branches to their tufted 
summits. The files of dwellings also were relieved of 
monotonous lowness by the lofty tower and drum 
of the parochial church upon the right; this exhibited 
a dignified Late-Renaissance f agade, beside which the 
campanile soared gracefully aloft, in stucco trimmed 
with stone, to an octagonal, arcaded belfry with a 
Byzantine cupola. 

A few simple little shops occupied the ground floors 
of the central buildings, and a single country inn — 
the Albergo Italia — displayed its sign on a clean, 
comfortable-looking house. A dozen or more of farm- 
ers' two- wheeled carts were scattered about the quays, 
drawn by horses, oxen, aud diminutive gray donkeys. 
The watery highway was deserted save for a solitary 
old barge, blunt-nosed and decayed, but loaded with 
fresh produce, which was being laboriously poled along 
by a man and a boy. — I reentered the hotel, passed 
through to the garden, and strolled southward down 
the splendid avenue of planes. 

A broad expanse of turf led straightaway between 
the two inner rows of arching verdure, flanked by 
promenades between the outer rows; it was a beauti- 
ful vista, accentuated by the domed and towered cha- 
teau on its green knoll to the right. This was built by 
the rich Selvatico family of Venice, about 1690, passed 
to the ownership of the German Counts of Wimpffen 
about 1850, and from them, not long after, to the 
present Counts of Emo, who are likewise occasionally 
spoken of as the Conti di S. Elena. At the end of the 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 563 

avenue the buildings of their contadini appeared first 
upon the right, in an open field, — long brick struct- 
ures faced with colonnades of brick pillars, under 
which were lofts for the storage of grain and hay ; and 
some of the laborers themselves were visible near by, 
— men and women clad in bright-hued garments and 
red kerchiefs, reaping and raking a meadow of rich 
grass, with light-hearted song and laughter. 

Beyond this field succeeded the dense woodland 
reaching to the hill, through which led a graveled 
path bearing westward from the avenue's end. This 
shady alley, as I later found, led directly to the bath- 
ing establishment at the foot of the eminence, passing 
along the outer bank of the narrow canal inclosing the 
private gardens of the count, which occupy the middle 
portion of the wood. A short turn to the left along the 
eastern arm of this stream, brought me to a point 
affording an exquisite vista of the castle: the water 
itself was delightfully banked with dense rose-bushes ; 
behind it there opened through the wold a long narrow 
perspective of alternating flower-beds and shrubberies, 
framed on each hand by ornamental trees of many 
species, intersected by winding paths; at its far end 
rose a magnificent flight of stone steps, climbing the 
hillside straightaway for over a hundred yards' ascent, 
between innumerable potted cacti; and at the summit, 
upon a wide balustraded terrace, stood the imposing, 
stuccoed chateau, with its central dome and battle- 
mented corner towers. These last were square and 
ponderous, and between them the fagade was orna- 
mented by a sort of two-storied portico, of triple 
arches divided by massive columns, approached by a 
double stairway from the terrace. No view more 
charmingly picturesque could be conceived. 

Circling the wall of roses guarding this enchanted 



564i PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

ground, I found a rustic bridge upon the south side 
that invited me within; strolling then through its fairy 
glades, I reached finally a broad expanse of flower- 
beds only, extending along the base of the height, and 
almost entirely devoted to roses, — still partly bloom- 
ing. What could be fairer than such a garden below 
one's castle windows, at the foot of its grand stairway ! 
The Stabilmento dei Bagni stood upon the right, be- 
hind a stuccoed wall; to the left stretched an extension 
of the wood, beyond a row of hot-houses. This proved 
to be the loveliest grove of the park, intersected by 
grand " cathedral aisles," enlivened by heavenly carol- 
ings from a host of feathered songsters. Here amongst 
the oleanders, ilexes, and magnolias, sleeping duskily 
under overhanging boughs, I found the four "lakes," 
or irregularly shaped basins, within which the saline 
waters bubble forth from beds of mineral ooze. Only 
to-day is the secret of their mysterious healing powers 
at last revealed: they are strongly radio-active. 

The Conte Emo, I learned from a gardener, was 
now in residence at the chateau, so that visiting it was 
for the time suspended; later I saw his three pretty, 
fair-haired children, playing amongst the glades of the 
sequestered weald, in the company of a costumed 
bonne. Recrossing the rose-garden I inspected the 
Stabilmento, — a long, plain stuccoed building of two 
stories, with a gateway at its left leading to a small 
grotto in the base of the hill, where two hot springs 
gurgled from the rocks into hewn basins, from which 
steam arose in clouds. Cups attached to chains showed 
that here the habitues drink their daily potions. At 
this season, however, none were to be seen; they flock 
here in the winter-time and the spring, — the present 
guests of the hotel being the last of the summer so- 
journers. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 565 

Within the building the keeper showed me the bath- 
rooms, with their individual modern tubs, and couches 
for massaging; the lounging room in the centre; the 
cooling reservoirs of water; the bedrooms upstairs for 
those too ill to stay at the hotel; and finally, in the hill- 
side at the back, the two large grottoes, or rather caves, 
raised to a fearful temperature by the steam from the 
boiling springs. Here the patients linger from eight to 
twenty minutes, passing from the less heated cave 
to the greater; then they enter the outer chambers to 
be douched and massaged. The very same method, as 
far as can be known, and pursued on the very same 
spot, in the identical grottoes, used by the ancient Ro- 
mans, — whose long white robes, in fact, still wrap the 
courageous bathers. 

In the cool of the afternoon I set forth again, through 
the village, northward along the dike of the canal, to 
the Castle of Cattajo. This famous relic of the Renais- 
sance period has a double interest, as being the only 
Veneto residence remaining to that princely family 
which once owned the whole district, — the House of 
Este. It was first erected by the wealthy Obizzi, of 
Padua, by whose name it was long known, and from 
the Estensi it finally passed to the possession of the 
Austrian branch of their house, which alone survives. 
It, however, is in reality Estense through the distaff 
only: Beatrice, the sole child of Duke Ercole III, the 
last ruling prince of Modena and Reggio (died 1803), 
married the Archduke Ferdinand, of the younger 
branch of the House of Austria, who came therefore 
into possession of that duchy on the fall of Napoleon. 
His descendants, though they lost the duchy again by 
the unification of Italy, have retained the name of 
Este. The present representative of the name. Arch- 
duke Francis Ferdinand, confines himself to his 



566 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

Austrian estates, not having visited Cattajo, I was 
told, for a space of fourteen years. 

My way led along the stream's eastern bank, through 
a rich and beautiful countryside, ennobled by the 
lofty hills looming closely on the west. A picturesque 
farmhouse was passed on the water's edge, ensconsed 
in trees, quickened by numerous geese and ducks pad- 
dling noisily along the shore. A quarter of an hour's 
walking brought the castle into sight, perched majes- 
tically on the left behind a broad deep fosse, and 
backed by a densely wooded hillside on the north. It 
was an imposing spectacle: an enormous rectangle of 
cream-coloted stucco, three stories in height, whose 
top windows were visible over the battlements of the 
southern wall of enceinture, — which was three or four 
times as long as the eastern front; at its northeastern 
corner rose the original, earlier building, shaped gen- 
erally like a giant cube five stories in height, con- 
structed of yellow, stained, and crumbling stucco; its 
bare walls with their simple oblong windows were 
crested \fy no relieving cornice, but grimly crenel- 
ated.^ Sentry boxes stood at intervals along the 
extended southern parapet, significant of the days of 
incessant war. Picturesqueness was added by the lofty 
woodland sweeping close behind, and the shrouding 
grove of smaller trees cresting the inner bank of the 
vast fosse. The latter was spanned by a graceful brick 
bridge of three large arches, adorned at the eastern 
end by an ornamental stone gateway, and at the west- 
ern by two massive pillars holding heroic statues of 
Hercules and Silenus. 

^ Behind this again, on the upper part of the isolated hill, concealed by 
its thick groves of tall trees, stands the preceding fortified residence of the 
Middle Ages, — a ruinous, frowning old keep of dark stone, distinguishable 
only from the sunken gardens on the south. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 567 

When I reached and advanced upon this bridge, I 
saw a private road leading straight westward from it 
before the long southern wall, evidently crossing the 
estates to the slopes of the hills several miles distant. 
To the right of the statued pillars extended the castle's 
eastern front, rising upon a stone-banked terrace 
overlooking the deep moat, which carried a parapet 
crowned with a row of huge stone balls, and a grove of 
low but stout evergreens cut into sugar-loaf forms. 
These evidences of Renaissance culture contrasted 
forcibly with the grim, lofty, battlemented fagade 
behind, soaring "much in the style of the old castles 
of Provence. Lofty rooms," wrote Eustace, "long 
galleries, winding staircases, and dark passages, fit it 
admirably for the purposes of a novelist, and render it 
equally proper for the abode of a great baron, for the 
receptacle of a band of robbers, for the scene of nightly 
murders, or for the solitary walk of ghosts and of spec- 
tres." 1 

On crossing the bridge, the wide sunken gardens of 
the chateau were revealed to the left of the road, strik- 
ingly embellished with ordered flowerbeds, hedges, 
potted plants, shrubberies, orangeries, clumps of mag- 
nolias, groves and avenues of stately trees, and pretty 
basins of water, — stretching away for many acres to 
the south and west. On this fair prospect looked down 
the upper windows, over the battlements of the south- 
ern wall. In the latter appeared the main entrance, — 
a monumental Renaissance archway two stories in 
height, adorned with four Doric half-columns, two 
statues at the sides, and four weather-beaten statues 

^ Eustace, Classical Tour through Italy, vol. i. — How the reality of all 
this, he might have added, would have delighted the terror-loving soul of 
Mrs. Radcliffe; it would surely have inspired her with a tale more weird 
and dreadful than the Mysteries of Udolpho, — which, for that matter, 
might well itself have been placed here. 



568 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

on the top. Beyond it the southern wall continued 
westward for three hundred yards and more, relieved 
by crenelated towers at its middle and farther corner. 
Near the first of these was an open gateway, entering 
which I found myself in an outer court of almost equal 
length, extending between the wall and the castle; to 
the right there mounted a flight of stone steps to a 
high balustraded terrace shaded by rows of clipped 
evergreens, and decorated by Doric columns tipped 
with stone balls, — the private garden of the seigneurs. 
The custodian, who now appeared, informed me that 
visitors were not at present admitted, because the Arch- 
duke was engaged in transferring to Austria all of the 
chateau's portable objects d'art, and everything was in 
confusion. As evidence I saw numerous packing-cases 
lying about, and sculptures nailed up in crates. The 
collection of antiquities, I knew, had been transported 
to Vienna in 1895 : this further stripping would leave 
the historic place with naught but the valueless por- 
tion of its old furniture, and the frescoes on the walls ; 
it was saddening, — and a proof of the Archduke's 
decision to return here no more. I asked if he were 
here now, and learned that only his orders had arrived. 
It was a disappointment which no offers of mine 
— strange to say — had any success in overcoming; 
and I trust that other travelers will be more fortunate. 
The three fine portraits on canvas by Paolo Veronese 
may have vanished, but his large ceiling-painting will 
remain, which covers one of the royal suite of five grand 
salons; these are otherwise decorated by a magnificent 
series of frescoes by Zelotti, depicting the achieve- 
ments and the glorification of the Obizzi; and in the 
private chapel, or Oratorio di S. Michele, there should 
remain a number of good pictures by the Venetian 
school of the later cinquecento. — But though I failed 




ARQUA. A PEASANT'S HOUSE. 




ARQUA. PARISH CHURCH AND PETRARCH'S TOMB. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 569 

in this, I was amply repaid for my walk by a long stroll 
through the sunken gardens, which yielded new and 
varied beauties at every turn of the paths; the woods 
alone were delightful, composed of monarchs of vast 
age and size; and the views afforded of the full extent 
of the great chateau were picturesque beyond the or- 
dinary, revealing over the main buildings the mighty 
old keep and embattled fortress concealed in the 
bushy elms of the upper hillside. 

As I walked slowly back to Battaglia in the sunset 
hour, my gaze was turned upon those lovely green hills 
so close upon the right, "still retaining the name of 
one of the earliest tribes that peopled Paduan terri- 
tory. . . . They were formerly, it seems, inhabited 
by a race of soothsayers, who vied with the Tuscans 
in the art of looking into futurity." ^ How proper, 
then, that they should have become the final residence 
of that grandest of all seers, whom Symonds called 
"the great awakener of Europe from mental lethargy, 
— the apostle of scholarship, the inaugurator of the 
humanistic impulse of the fifteenth century." In their 
verdurous recesses high above the plain, Petrarch 
spent the last five years of that wonderful life which 
struck off the age-long fetters of the human intellect, 
and ushered mankind into the rebirth of its mentality. 
To-morrow I should make my pilgrimage to that 
sacred shrine, where the poet's genius blazed its last 
fire upon the adoring world; — my final pilgrimage, 
of all these months of journeying, which had brought 
me thus back, in an enormous circle, to the point of 
my departure. Over there to the northeast, I could 
almost see upon the level horizon the domes and 
towers of Venice, whence I had started. Since they 
receded from my view, I had visited all that hinterland 

* Eustace, Classical Tour, vol. i. 



570 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

which she so gloriously made her own, and the scores 
of towns and cities that bore in their piazzas the white 
Lion of St. Mark. Venetia had been traversed from 
end to end, presenting to my retrospection one vast 
exposition of the arts and science of the Renaissance. 
What more fitting end to all this wandering, then, 
than a pilgrimage to the tomb of that immortal who 
opened to men the gates of this world of culture. 

On the shoulder of one of those fair hills reposed 
that tomb, and close by it the modest home in which 
the great poet breathed his last; that home to which 
Francesco della Carrara the elder so often repaired 
for consultation and advice, and so many illustrious 
men came to sit at the feet of genius. It is difficult for 
one not a student to comprehend what a tremendous 
influence was diffused from that humble house through 
the Italian world of the trecento, an influence which has 
ever since gone on widening and increasing. Petrarch 
had "inspired ideas and modes of thought which pre- 
ceding scholars had possessed in their own brains, 
but could not communicate to society." ^ "The study 
of Latin writers had never been wholly neglected in 
Italy; but Petrarch introduced a more profound, 
liberal, and elegant scholarship, and communicated to 
his countrymen that enthusiasm for the literature, the 
history, and the antiquities of Rome, which divided 
his own heart with a frigid mistress and a more frigid 
muse." 2 " He was the first to understand the value 
of public libraries, the first to accumulate coins and 
inscriptions as the sources of accurate historical in- 
formation, the first to preach the duty of preserving 
ancient monuments." ^ 

^ H. C HoUway-Calthorp, Petrarch; His Life and Times. 
^ Macaulay, Essays on Machiavelli, and Petrarch. 
' Synionds, Revival of Learning. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 571 

"With Petrarch, and because of him, the classical 
spirit resumed its sway. . . . Charm defies analysis. 
It is evident from his whole career that he possessed 
both intellectual and personal charm to a rare degree; 
he fascinated men's imagination and fired their hearts. 
Entire strangers came as pilgrims — and having seen 
the poet, went back to spread the fame of him through 
all lands. So his reputation grew, and his influence 
became more potent every day; and the studies that 
he loved, from being the monopoly of a handful of 
scholars, became the inspiration of the world's cul- 
ture." ^ " From this time, the admiration of learning 
and genius became almost an idolatry among the people 
of Italy. Kings and republics, cardinals and doges, 
vied with each other in honoring and flattering Pe- 
trarch. Embassies from rival states solicited the honor 
of his instructions. His coronation agitated the Court 
of Naples and the people of Rome as much as the most 
important political transaction could have done. . . . 
To the man who had extended the dominion of her 
ancient language — who had erected the trophies of 
philosophy and imagination in the haunts of ignorance 
and ferocity — whose spoils were the treasures of an- 
cient genius rescued from obscurity and decay — the 
Eternal City offered the just and glorious tribute of 
her gratitude. . . . He who had restored the broken 
link between the two ages of human civilization was 
crowned with the wreath which he deserved from the 
moderns who owed to him their refinement, from the 
ancients who owed to him their fame." ^ 

It was at the height of this celebrity and power that 
Petrarch came to dwell at Padua, and shortly after- 
ward, tired of the life of court and city, retired to "the 
hospitable house of the Augustinian friars at Arqua. 

^ H. C. Hollway-Calthorp, sopra. * Macaulay, sopra. 



572 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

He was so charmed with the beauty of the place, that 
he got Lombardo da Serico to negotiate for the pur- 
chase of a plot of ground, comprising a vineyard 
and an orchard of oHves and other fruit trees. Here 
he built a house, which still stands, structurally un- 
altered, and bears witness to the simplicity of his 
domestic habits and his appreciation of beautiful 
scenery." ^ This was in 1369. Francesco della Carrara 
senior, the Despot of Padua, who, like his predecessor, 
Jacopo II, always manifested towards Petrarch a 
peculiar reverence and affection, frequently took his 
place in the stream of pilgrims which henceforth 
wended steadily to Arqua; and that Petrarch returned 
the esteem, became evident when he left for a while 
this beloved retirement to go as Francesco's envoy 
to Venice, and there secured peace for him from the 
menacing Senate. That memorable occasion was the 
poet's last appearance in the world. On the morning 
of his seventieth birthday, July 20, 1374, he was found 
in his library sleeping his last sleep, with an open book 
on the desk before him. 

Early upon the following morning I was en voiturey 
and driving down the canal-road on my way to Arqua. 
The cloudless sky presaged one of those glorious days 
that often bless the Italian autumn. The route fol- 
lowed the crest of the dike southward for a mile or so, 
toward the isolated cone of Monselice, plainly visible 
across the plain, then turned directly westward to the 
hills. The land that we traversed was of the usual 
deep fertility, sparsely dotted with stuccoed farm- 
houses of modern look, — small, poverty-marked 
dwellings, attached to barns faced by porticoes of 
brick pillars, which sheltered empty lofts for grain 

^ H. C. HoUway-Calthorp, sopra. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 573 

and hay. This sad poverty of crop and people was 
vastly increased all over Venetia and Lombardy of late 
years, ever since the great blights that began to strike 
the vines and the silkworms in the middle of the past 
century. Those blights, a direct result of the extermina- 
tion of the birds, destroyed at their first attack prac- 
tically all the vines of the plain, which till then had 
been among the sweetest and most delicate of Italy, 
and in subsequent attacks have devastated the re- 
plantings again and again, so that the vintages of to- 
day are not a third of what they once were, and their 
products are coarse and heavy. These wines, now so 
inferior to the once despised Piedmont vintages, that 
the latter constitute the delicacy of the present, are 
yet so dear that the peasants can no longer drink them 
save on grand occasions. The last blight I had my- 
self seen in this very year, — the grapes hanging gray 
and withered throughout so many sections that their 
produce would amount to almost nothing. As for the 
silkworms and the mulberry trees, they too have 
steadily suffered from increasing insect scourges, that 
have reduced many districts to destitution. When one 
adds the terrible summer hailstorms, which have be- 
come much more frequent of late years, the reasons 
for poverty are apparent. 

But behind these physical afflictions lie the condi- 
tions of peasant life that have kept the tillers of the 
soil from rising up again with new determination: 
firstly, their profound ignorance, and use of antedi- 
luvian methods; secondly, their unhappy subjection 
to usurers, in the absence of any sensible system of 
finance; thirdly, the wretched system of taxation, and 
its heaviness, which press hardest of all upon the 
farmer; fourthly, and chiefly, the conditions of land 
ownership and tenure. Nearly all of the plain is still 



574 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

in the hands of large proprietors, to an unhappy 
extent absentees, whose broad acres are looked after 
by a class of middlemen, or factors. From these the 
peasants rent their little farms, which usually have 
been in the tenancy of the same family for genera- 
tions; but those who pay their rent entirely in money 
are as rare as the individual peasant proprietors, 
whose numbers have been greatly reduced by the 
hard times. A fair percentage pay partly in money, 
partly in wheat or other crops, — which is called the 
contratto misto. The mezzaria system, which prevails 
in Tuscany and central Italy, is more used upon the 
plain than any other: by it the landlord furnishes the 
land and buildings, the repairs, the draft animals, and 
occasionally certain implements, and receives one-half 
the crops, — from which again he has to pay the taxes; 
when oxen die or vines wither, he has to replace them, 
and when crops fail, from hail or blight, he has to supply 
provisions to keep his contadini alive. This system 
did very well in the old times of plenty, but of late 
it has impoverished the owners and tenants together, 
the latter falling continually deeper in debt to the 
former, who^ receive little or no income. 

The other forms of contract, variations of this sys- 
tem, are beyond enumeration, altering with every 
district and nearly every estate; the differences being 
in the things which the proprietor is bound to furnish, 
and the varying shares into which the different crops 
are to be divided. But all these methods have achieved 
the same result, — an ignorant, improvident de- 
pendence on and indebtedness to the master, who is 
thus pulled downhill along with his tenants. Under 
such conditions a single disaster — a blight, a fire, 
or hailstorm — sends the peasant to the village 
usurer for money to buy new implements or stock, or 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 575 

even clothes and food ; and having taken this down- 
ward step, he can never recover himself, but ends 
in complete ruination. The equal division of land 
which the Italian law enforces between all the heirs 
of a decedent owner, has greatly added to this evil 
state of affairs, by its continual parceling out of farms 
into smaller and smaller pieces, with-the concomitant 
changes in tenancy and heavy transfer taxes. 

The peasants, it is well known, no longer have the 
stamina to work as they once did, on account of their 
impoverished diet; this again results in poorer crops, 
and still less food. They live chiefly, save in the 
Lombard wheat districts, on 'polenta, or corn flour, 
with the addition of a little rice, and cabbages, turnips, 
onions, or other cheap vegetables, generally eaten 
raw, or in soup. Eggs, chickens, cheese, and meat 
are too dear for home consumption, save on Tarefestas; 
and then only do they take a little of the coarse wine, 
which does not suffice, as did the former abundance 
and fine quality, to make up for the deficiences of their 
diet. As for coffee and tea, they are practically un- 
known; even salt is a grudged luxury, so heavily is it 
taxed. The farm servants fare worse than their mas- 
ters, receiving their wages in the shape of the simplest 
possible food, with lodging, firewood, and a fraction 
of the crops they raise. In such a state of society it 
is not a matter for wonder that the educated parish 
priests obtain an emolument of only £20 a year, and 
fall victims to the pellagra with their flocks. It is easy 
to see how the noble landlords of the Veneto, who had 
already incurred so many sacrifices under the Aus- 
trians and the Risorgimento, through their patriotism, 
have since then been gradually reduced to comparative 
penury. And one can judge how vastly were needed 
those model farms with modern methods, established 



576 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

by Marchese Stangi and Baron Franchetti, near Cre- 
mona and Mantua, to prove to Italians that the fault 
has lain with the men, not the soil, and that the an- 
cient adage is still true> — " La vanga ha la punta 
d' oro." 1 

"The drive to Arqua," wrote Symonds, "takes 
one through a country which is tenderly beautiful, 
because of its contrast between little peaked mountains 
and the plain. It is not a grand landscape. . , . Its 
charm is a certain mystery and repose, — an unde- 
fined sense of the neighboring Adriatic, a pervading 
consciousness of Venice unseen, but felt from far 
away." ^ The description of the final approach written 
by Hobhouse (later Lord Broughton) when he and 
Byron made their visit of September, 1817, presents 
an accurate picture: "Across a flat, well- wooded 
meadow, you come to a little blue lake, clear but 
fathomless, and to the foot of a succession of acclivi- 
ties and hills, clothed with vineyards and orchards, 
rich with fir and pomegranate trees, and every sunny 
forest shrub. From the banks of the lake the road 
winds into the hills, and the church of Arqua is soon 
seen between a cleft where two ridges slope towards 
each other, and nearly inclose the village. The houses 
are scattered at intervals on the steep sides of these 
summits." ^ All this is more than a thousand feet 
above the plain, — a long slow climb, — on the slope 
of the great hill sustaining the twin peaks. 

Mounting thus from the east into the straggling 
hamlet, but a few houses had been passed when we 
debouched suddenly into a piazza upon a small pla- 
teau somewhat below the notch, extending to the left 

^ "The spade has the point of gold." 

^ J. A. Symonds, Sketches and Studies in Italy. 

^ Broughton, Remarks Made in Several Visits to Italy. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 577 

from the narrow street; at its end, upon a broad ter- 
race flanked by cypresses, behind a semicircular 
yard inclosed by a stone-capped parapet, stood the 
queer old parochial church, built of stucco, painted a 
soft blue. Its central body appeared a simple cube, 
a story and a half in height, in which opened two cor- 
niced doorways topped by fan-lights ; at its sides were 
small square wings of a single story, containing two 
shorter doorways topped by round lights; and over 
the left of these, in the rear, rose the modest, stuccoed 
cam'panile, — its single-arched belfry, adorned with 
pilasters, being surmounted by an octagonal lantern 
with a Byzantine cupola. In the centre of the rounded 
fore-court stood the tomb of Petrarch, 

I glanced, as I dismounted from the vettura, at the 
two buildings flanking the piazza : that to the left was 
a ruinous Gothic palazzo, evidently now used as a barn, 
holding in its upper floor many fair ogive trefoil 
windows, of stucco frames with terra-cotta labels, — 
double-arched on the fagade, with slender stone shafts, 
and single-arched at the sides ; that to the right was 
the village inn, an aged, two-storied, stucco building, 
carrying the sign, — "Albergo-Trattoria-al Petrarco." 
Before its northern side the street continued up the 
hill to the notch; into the yard at its southern side 
my vetturino disappeared with his horse. As I ad- 
vanced to the churchyard the unique beauty of its 
position was revealed: the terrace on which it lay 
was raised between steep descents, — that on the left 
being covered with massed orange trees, from which 
soared two of the tall pointed cypresses, while on the 
right fell a roadway from the face of the inn, to a 
line of dwellings down the slope. The other three 
cypresses rose from a narrow terrace between it and 
the court parapet. 



578 PLAIN TOWNS OF ITALY 

Over this southern declivity of the mountain, then, 
the church was perched on a narrow shoulder, looking 
straight down into the valley, which opens eastward 
into the plain. Over the orangery on the left I saw 
the variegated beauties far below, — the rich, check- 
ered fields, the patches of yellow foliage, and the 
gleaming farmhouses and hamlets, — which clam- 
bered also up the opposite mountainside, and spread 
eastward from the vale into the hazy, distant level 
of the plain. To the right my gaze was higher led, 
to the twin summits just above, encircled by their 
joint necklace of bright stuccoed dwellings, which 
in spite of their vivid hues were clearly of mouldering 
age, — save only two huge modern structures of cream 
color, at the extreme left. Some of the old buildings 
penetrated the cleft, where another church was pic- 
turesquely posed. A third churchly edifice, of imme- 
morial age, lay at my feet across the falling road, the 
plaster long crumbled from its medieval stones; the 
pointed arch of its portal, and those of the four tre- 
foil windows above — the central one double-arched, 
the fourth in the gable — showed an erection of the 
early GotKic period. Now it was a ruinous dwelling, 
which added to its quaint appearance. 

With this glance around, I stepped up to the storied 
sepulchre, — a sense of veneration strong upon me, at 
the realization that I stood in the presence of that 
illustrious dust, greater than all the princes of earth. 
It was surrounded by an iron railing, upheld by four 
stone posts at the corners; upon a plain double base 
rose the four stocky, quadrangular pillars sustaining 
the large sarcophagus, of simple Paduan form. All 
was of red Verona marble; but on the front centre of 
the gabled lid, some eight or nine feet from the ground, 
stood a bronze bust of the poet, above a bronze scroll. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 579 

There was no other adornment, beyond the Latin 
inscriptions. Three more inscriptions and a shield of 
arms hung on the church's fagade directly behind, 
one of which commemorated the celebration of the 
fifth centenary of the poet's death, held here by United 
Italy on July 18, 1874. The entire simplicity of this 
monument was most satisfying, aggrandized as it is 
by its lofty, wind-swept throne, girdled by the eter- 
nal volcanic hills. "Fit resting-place," said Symonds, 
*'for what remains to earth of such a poet's clay! It 
is as though archangels, flying, had carried the marble 
chest and set it down here on the hillside, to be a sign 
and sanctuary for after-men. Bending here, we feel 
that Petrarch's own winged thoughts and fancies, 
eternal and aerial, have congregated to be the ever- 
ministering and irremovable attendants over the 
shrine."^ 

It is a late day to quote those beautiful lines which 
Byron wrote after that first visit of 1817; but what 
account of this place would be complete without a 
reference to them.?^ — 

There is a tomb in Arqua; reared in air. 

Pillared ia their sarcophagus, repose 

The bones of Laura's lover. . . . He arose 

To raise a language, and his land reclaim 

From the dull yoke of her barbaric foes. 

Watering the tree which bears his lady's name 

With his melodious tears, he gave himself to fame.^ 

It was the poet Petrarch, the singer of a hopeless 
love, that appealed to Byron rather than the scholar. 
He came later upon a second visit, "when he brought 
the lady of his love," the fair Contessa Guiccioli; — 
"she who knows his sonnets by heart," said Byron, 
**and who recites them as only an Italian mouth can. 

^ J. A. Symonds, sopra. * Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, iv, xxx. 



580 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

. . . Petrarch is the poetical idol of the women of 
Italy." ^ "Though Dante was an admirable sonnet- 
eer," wrote Sidney Lee, "it was his successor, Pe- 
trarch, whose example gave the sonnet its lasting 
vogue in Europe. . . . Every sonneteer of western 
Europe acknowledged Petrarch to be his master; and 
from Petrarchian inspiration came the form and much 
of the spirit of Shakespeare's sonnets." ^ 

As I gazed upon the tomb, I thought of that sad 
day of 1374 when the bard's remains were carried here 
from his house. The " funeral was celebrated with great 
pomp; Francesco da Carrara might be trusted to see 
to that. He himself attended, with a train of cour- 
tiers; four bishops took part in the ceremony, and the 
bier was carried by sixteen doctors of law. Petrarch's 
body was dressed in a red gown, — according to some, 
the royal robe which Robert of Naples had given 
him for his crowning, according to others, the dress 
of a Canon of Padua. . . . The sarcophagus [was] 
constructed by his son-in-law." Long afterward, "at 
a time when the tomb stood in need of repair, an 
arm was stolen [by a Florentine, through a rent still 
visible] which is said to be now preserved at Madrid; 
and among the relics kept in Petrarch's house, the 
caretaker shows with misplaced satisfaction a box 
which contains one of the poet's fingers." ^ This, how- 
ever, is the only disturbance that the remains have 
suffered. 

Entering the church, I found it cubical in form, 
with a cubical high-altar recess on the east side, and 
an organ-loft on the west side, supported on four gray 

1 The Countess of Blessington. The Idler in Italy (1828). 
* Sidney Lee on Sir Philip Sidney, in his Great Englishmen of the Sixteenth 
Century. 
' H. C. Hollway-Calthorp, sopra. 



RO VIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 581 

columns of imitation marble; against each of the other 
walls stood a modest side altar, one of which was a 
pleasing Renaissance work of sculptured marble, with 
a pair of life-size cherubs at its front angles; upon 
it was a seicentist Baptism of the Saviour, somewhat 
in Palma Giovane's style, within a rich frame of the 
same epoch, elaborately carved with putti, human 
faces, festoons of flowers, etc. The walls and flat roof 
were whitewashed, and the former hung with a curi- 
ous array of small modern pictures, mainly lithographs. 
Two old canvases, however, flanked the chancel arch, 
of which the left one was evidently from the school 
of Paolo Veronese, — depicting the Madonna in glory 
between Saints Francis and Clara, above a throng 
of persons, including a pope, a princess, and several 
cardinals; the figures were really excellent, being both 
natural and of considerable grace and expression. 

Petrarch's famous fountain, of which he wrote and 
drank, I found a little below the church, springing 
from the slope under an archway of masonry, doubt- 
less added since his day. The sweetness of the water 
justified all his praises. After this I mounted the 
main street to the upper piazza in the notch, following 
a couple of housewives carrying water home in the 
Euganean fashion, — with a pail slung at each end of 
a long wooden bow across the shoulders. An odd thing 
about this village was that it was not solidly built, 
but the houses were scattered separately about the 
hillside, amongst gardens. From the ruined fragments 
of an ancient castle at the top, which a native informed 
me had once been the Venetian citadel, another street 
bearing southward led me quickly to the poet's house, 
perched, like the church, on a narrow terrace overlook- 
ing the southern valley. It stood at the end of a small 
garden, now densely overgrown with trees and shrubs, 



582 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

save for the confined walk leading to the modern gates 
of ornamental ironwork. The two-storied stucco dwell- 
ing, two rooms deep and four in breadth, appeared 
wonderfully preserved, as if but one or two generations 
had passed since Petrarch's occupancy; its present ex- 
cellent condition is due to an association which years 
ago purchased the place, to conserve it as a lasting 
memorial. The entrance is by a narrow portico pro- 
jecting from the middle of the fagade, consisting of 
a single archway below, and a double-arched loggia 
above, approached by a flight of steps from the left. 
Ascending these, escorted by the well-informed cus- 
todian whom my ring had brought to the gates, I found 
myself before three handsome, trefoil, ogive arches, 
supported by slender white stone columns, in the 
middle of which was the door, and at the sides two 
sixteenth-century windows of circular leaded panes. ^ 
Within opened the wide entrance hall, with a red tiled 
floor, brown stucco walls, and a wooden ceiling which 
Petrarch had painted with countless little squares 
containing brown circles. Around the upper walls 
extended a cinquecento frieze of frescoed panels, three 
per side, illustrating the story of Petrarch and Laura, 
as set forth in his sonnets. One or both of them appear 
in each scene, amidst charming landscapes through 
which winds the Sorga River, with the town of Vau- 
cluse discerned in the distance, where the poet saw 
and loved his ideal; and under each tableau are writ- 
ten its appropriate verses from the Canzoni di Laura. 
This charming idea is well carried out, the work hav- 
ing been skillfully retouched about twenty years ago. 

^ Restorations, or reproductions, of the original trecento windows. In 
several rooms; however, the framework of Petrarch's day is still preserved; 
and here and there, especially in his study, linger a number of the little 
round trecento panes, distinguished by their yellowish opaqueness. 




ARQUA. THE HOTi 




OF PETRARCH. 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 583 

The entrance hall runs through to the rear wall, 
in which opens another doorway, between two win- 
dows. Roundabout stand two tables, a desk and two 
chairs of the trecento, heavily framed and carved all 
over with curious scrolls, — recently brought here to 
exemplify the furniture of Petrarch's day. In a cen- 
tral, modern, glass case repose the visitors' books bear- 
ing illustrious signatures, amongst which I saw those of 
Byron, Queen Margherita, King Umberto, etc.; also 
a photographic reproduction of a page of Petrarch's 
original manuscript in the Vatican, and a fine copy 
of the first printed edition of his works, from the press 
of Aldo Manutio at Venice. 

The back room on the right was the poet's bed- 
chamber, now unfurnished; here there were similar 
cinquecento frescoes, illustrating the canzoni on 
Laura's death. Adjacent in front was the kitchen, 
with the handsome chimney-piece of soft creamy stone 
(from the neighborhood) , under which the poet's meals 
were cooked; here the frescoes illustrated his poem on 
Africa. The wooden ceiling retained his painted de- 
signs; and over one doorway stood the beautiful terra- 
cotta bust of the dead Lucrezia, which he so much 
admired, — an excellent piece of sculpture, with its 
head thrown back toward the right shoulder, and eyes 
closed. On the chimney-front was painted a reclining, 
Titianesque Venus, representing the suicide of Cleo- 
patra. The left front chamber was the poet's dining- 
room, adorned with a similar chimney-piece, which in 
the Late-Renaissance had been painted with a copy 
of Titian's group of Venus, Cupid, and Vulcan, — now 
retouched and of graceful effect. The other frescoes 
here were very crude. Over the rear doorway, in a 
baroque frame with a glass cover, rested the cele- 
brated mummy of Petrarch's cat, underwrit by an 



584 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

inscription in Latin which testifies that she was the 
poet's first love, not Laura, and that to her are due the 
thanks of humanity for saving from the rats his pre- 
cious manuscripts. The ceiling was a modern imita- 
tion of the others; and on the north wall was a modern 
bronze bust of Petrarch, dated 1902. 

In the left rear were two undersized rooms, entered 
only from the last; the larger was his study, or library, 
illumined still by the window of his day, with its little 
round leaded panes ; the smaller was his retreat for 
writing and reading, especially at night, lighted by a 
similar but smaller window.^ Here it was that he was 
found dead, before his unfinished epitome of the Lives 
of Illustrious Men. The armchair in which he worked, 
and died, is preserved in a glass case in the study, 
together with the desk at which he sat, — the former 
being exquisitely carved on the back with the most 
delicate designs. Here also I saw his bookcase, whose 
two doors were relieved with countless tiny square 
panels, having perforations of "X" shape, — nearly all 
destroyed by early visitors. On the wall was pointed 
out to me the remaining decipherable stanza of the 
sonnet which Alfieri wrote there on his visit, with his 
signature barely visible underneath. ^ 

Wonderful indeed it was to reflect that in this very 
room, half a thousand years ago, with the aid of this 

^ This was really a closet, between the study and the hall, entered solely 
from the former; just wide enough to contain his desk and armchair, before 
the window. 

^ These famous lines are as admirable for their tenderness of sentiment 
as for their melody; they began, — 

O Cameretta, che gia in te chiudesti 
Quel Grande alia cui fama e, angusto il mondo — 

Alfieri's memorandum at this time also shows his feelings: "I visited, 
once more, the tomb of our master in love, the divine Petrarch ; and then, 
as at Ravenna, consecrated a day to meditation and verse." 



ROVIGO, ARQUA, AND BATTAGLIA 585 

same furniture, the thoughts were penned which led 
the way for mankind from the darkness of barbarism 
to the Hght of culture. "Even after death [that of 
Laura] had placed the last seal on his misery," said 
Macaulay, "we see him devoting to the cause of the 
human mind all the strength and energy which love 
and sorrow had spared. He lived the apostle of liter- 
ature; — he fell its martyr: — he was found dead with 
his head reclined on a book." ^ 

There were two more rooms to be seen, added on to 
the west end after Petrarch's time, and filled now 
with portraits, busts, relics of the Delia Carrara, early 
editions of Petrarch's works. Renaissance furniture, 
etc., all more or less connected in interest with his 
life and fame. Finally, I stepped from the rear door 
upon the balcony above the valley, guarded still by its 
original curved iron railing, upon which the poet loved 
to lean and gaze at his view: there directly below 
spread the little field which was laden with his cher- 
ished vines and olive trees, — now a vineyard only; be- 
yond stretched "the glowing gardens in the dale im- 
mediately beneath, [and] the wide plain, above whose 
low woods of mulberry and willow, thickened into a 
dark mass by festoons of vines, tall single cypresses 
and the spires of towns are seen in the distance, 
stretching to the mouths of the Po and the shores of 
the Adriatic." ^ 

Glorious indeed was this view which lured the poet 
here to dwell, — all unchanged from the days when his 
eyes rested upon it : the girdling conical peaks soaring 
in majesty to the right, the pastoral vale below, the 
vast mountain-side opposite climbing from fertile 
meadows to the bare summit, the red-tiled village clam- 
bering up the hither slope to the left, and the immense, 

^ Macaulay, Essay on Petrarch. ^ Lord Broughton, sopra. 



586 PLAIN-TOWNS OF ITALY 

green, haze-shrouded, plain extending indefinitely be- 
yond the valley's end, with its eternal sense of mystery 
and menace of the sea. When I had bidden good-by to 
the sanctuary, regained my vettura, and started from 
the village down the far descent, the beauty of that 
sublime panorama came upon me with redoubled feel- 
ing; and at the first knoll I stopped, to gaze upon it 
once more. My journeying was over; behind me lay 
all that wonderful hinterland which Venice conquered 
with the sword, and clothed in the loveliness of the 
Renaissance; and ahead of me, just below that dim 
horizon which seemed to bear the murmur of the 
waves, soared the golden domes and spires of the 
Suzeraine herself, — the Immortal Republic, beckon- 
ing me back to her glorious rest. In this final look, 
the great plain seemed to grow more lustrous, — still 
more like an emerald velvet strown with the spark- 
ling diamonds of its innumerable hamlets, as if to dis- 
play to me for the last time its full and matchless 
charm. And as I gazed farewell, the melody of the 
poet was ringing in my ears, like the silver chimes of 

monastery bells across a shadow-stealing vale : — 

• 

Farewell, land of love, Italy, 

Sister-land of Paradise: 
With mine own feet I have trodden thee. 

Have seen with mine own eyes; 
I remember, thou forgettest me, — 

I remember thee.^ 

1 C. G. Rossetti. 



THE END 



INDEX 



INDEX 



Abano, town of, 559. 
Accoramboni, Vittoria, 48, 49. 
Adige river, 322-325, 347-349, 395, 

396. 
Adria, town of, 558. 
Agilulf, 559. 
Agriculture of the plain, 13, 15, 97, 

98, 260, 501, 502, 572-576. 
Alaric, 224, 272, 326, 459. 
Alberic da Romano, 139, 178. 
Alboin. 224, 273, 324, 329. 
Aleardi, 344. 
Aleotti, G. B., 128. 
Altichieri da Zevio, 22, 69, 70, 71, 78, 

79, 344, 358, 367, 391. 
Amalteo, Pomponio, 191, 248, 256, 

277, 284, 291, 292, 303, 313. 
Amusements of townspeople, 142, 

143, 145, 182-184, 480, 481. 
Aquileia, 271, 272, 275; Patriarchs 

of, 260, 274, 275, 278, 299, 308, 

312. 
Antenor, 16, 28, 60, 61, 85. 
Antharis, 330, 349. 
Antonello da Messina, 83. 
Areola, 347. 

Arnold of Brescia, 420, 468. 
Arqua, buildings of, 577, 578; 

church, 577, 580, 581; drives to, 

528, 572, 576; fountain, 581; 

Petrarch, 569-572, tomb of, 577- 

580, house of, 581-585- situation, 

528, 559, 572, 576. 
Asolo, 153, 154. 
Attila, 16, 224, 272, 326, 452, 461, 

462. 
Avars, the, 273, 274. 

Bacchiglione, the, 25, 26, 30, 60, 80, 

109, 110, 527. 
Badile, Antonio, 346, 391, 402, 556. 



Barbarelli, Giorgio (see Giorgione). 

Bardi, Giovanni Minelli de', 145. 

Baruzzi, 489. 

Basaiti, 251, 555. 

Bassano: albergo, 142; art of, 140; 
Bardi, Minelli de', 145; Bellini, 
Giovanni, 152; bicycle meet, 142, 
143, 145; Bonifazio, 152; Brenta, 
the, 138, 139, 145, 146; bridge, the 
old wooden, 145, 146; Buonamici, 
house of, 149; Ca' Rezzonico, 152; 
camposanto, 147; Canova, 150, 
153; cinematograph, 142, 143; Da 
Ponte, family of, 140; Da Ponte, 
Francesco, 140, 150, 151; Da 
Ponte, Francesco, Jr., 140, 159; 
Da Ponte, Girolamo, 140, 144; Da 
Ponte, house of the family, 147; 
Da Ponte, Jacopo, 140, 145, 151; 
Da Ponte, Leandro, 140, 148, 151, 
268; Duomo, 148; excursions 
from, 152, 153, 154; Ezzelino, 139, 
141; castle of, 147, 148; S. Giov- 
anni Battista, church of, 144, 145; 
Guariento, 152; Guarinai, G., 148; 
history, 139, 140; hotel, 142; jour- 
ney to, 137, 138; Madonna delle 
Grazie, church of, 153; Minelli de' 
Bardi, 145; Museo Civico, 150; 
Palazzo Pretorio, 149; piazzas, 
central, 143, 145, 149; Pitati, Bon- 
ifazio, 152; Pordenone, 150; Pos- 
sagno, 150; Roberti, Roberto, 
151; situation, 139; street paint- 
ing, 149; SS. Trinita, 153; view 
from castle, 147; Villa Parolini, 
153; western quarter, 145, 146, 
147. 

Bassano family, 140. 

Bassano, Francesco, 140, 150, 151, 
212. 



590 



INDEX 



Bassano, Francesco, Jr., 140, 159. 

Bassano, Girolamo, 140, 144. 

Bassano, Jacopo, 36, 96, 130, 131, 
140, 145, 151, 153. 

Bassano, Leandro, 126, 140, 148, 
151, 159, 213, 268. 

Baths of Recoaro, 137. 

Battaglia: Albergo Italia, 562; as- 
pect of, 561, 562; baths, history of, 
559; canal, 528, 531, 560, 561, 562; 
Castle of Cattajo, 565-569; Es- 
tensi, the, 565; Grand Hotel des 
Thermes, 560, 561; Obizzi, the, 
565, 568; parish church, 562; situ- 
ation of, 559; springs of, 559, 564; 
Stabilmento dei Bagni, 559, 564; 
vapor grottoes, 565; Villa S. 
Elena, 559, 562; Veronese, Paolo, 
568; Zelotti, 568. 

Bayard, Chevalier, 426. 

Bellano, Bart., 47, 75, 77, 95, 96. 

Belli, Marco, 555. 

Bellini, Gentile, 83, 554. 

Bellini, Giovanni, 83, 107, 126, 127, 
130, 152, 198, 209, 210, 410, 490, 
554, 557. 

Bellunello, Andrea, 276, 284. 

Belluno, 214, 215. 

Bembo, Cardinal, 10, 154; tomb of, 
67. 

Benaglio, Francesco, 345, 367, 390, 
402. 

Benaglio, Girolamo, 345. 

Berengarius, 331. 

Bergamo, 4. 

Berici, Monti, 100, 105, 106, 120, 
133-136, 346. 

Bevilacqua, 200, 504. 

Bissolo, 192. 

Boccaccino, Boccaccio, 83. 

Bonifacio, S., village of, 347. 

Bonifazio, 152, 410, 555. 

Bonsignori, Francesco, 345, 346, 
390, 401, 402. 

Bordone, Paris, 180, 190, 191, 192, 
213. 

Bosco del Consiglio, 258. 



BoselH, Antonio, 67. 

Bozen, 154, 323. 

Brandolin Castle, 258. 

Bregni, brothers, 191. 

Brenta Canal, 25. 

Brenta River, 6, 8-10, 12, 138, 139, 
145, 146. 

Brescia : S. Af ra, church of, 469-471 ; 
S. Agostino, church of, 442; Alaric, 
452; S. Alessandro, church of, 472; 
amusements, 480, 481 ; Ansilperga, 
454, 459, 463; Arnold of Brescia, 
420, 468; art of, 429-431; Attila, 
452, 461; Barbieri (Guercino), 
491; Baruzzi, 489; Bayard, 
Chevalier, 426; Bellini, Giovanni, 
490; Broletto, 439-443; cafes and 
bars, 480; Camposanto, 495; Car- 
magnola, 424, 425; Carrara, della, 
the, 421, 424; castle and castle 
hill, 433, 434, 491-494; Catullus, 
419; character of the people, 431; 
Charlemagne, 464; Civerchio, 
Vmcenzo, 429, 472, 478, 491; S. 
Clemente, church of, 466, 467; 
clock tower, 438; Cornaro, Queen 
Caterina, 427; Corso Zanardelli, 
433, 434, 435, 481; S. Cristo, 
church of, 487; cross of Galla 
Placidia, 457, 458, 459; customs of 
the people, 480, 481; Desiderata, 
463, 464; Desiderius, 420, 454, 
459, 463; Duomo Nuovo, 440, 
443-445; Duomo Vecchio, 440, 
445; Ezzelino, 420, 421; Ferra- 
mola, 429, 430, 456; Ferrari, 489; 
Foppa, Vincenzo, 429, 477, 484, 
489; Foppa the Younger, 456; 
fortress, 491, 492; Forum, Roman, 
449-452; S. Francesco, church of, 
485, 486; Francia, 477, 490; Fred- 
erick Barbarossa, 420; Fromen- 
tone, 437; Galleria Martinengo, 
469, 489-491; Galla Placidia, 
457-462; Gambara, Lattanzio, 
431; Garibaldi, 429, 494; Gaston 
de Foix, 426; S. Giovanni Evan- 



INDEX 



591 



gelista, church of, 477-479; S. 
Guilia, church of, 454-458, 462; 
Gregoletti, 445; Haynau, General, 
428, 429; history, 419-429, 450, 
452, 453; hotel, 433; Lotto, Lor- 
enzo, 490; Luini, Bernardino, 465; 
Madonna dei Miracoli, church of, 
485; Mantegna, 490; manufactur- 
ing, 487, 488; Marco Palmesano 
da Forli, 490; S. Maria Calchera, 
church of, 467; S. Maria del Car- 
mine, church of, 479; S. Maria del 
Solari, church of, 454, 464, 465; S. 
Maria delle Grazie, church of, 
475-477; Martinengo, Count, 427, 
428, 469, tomb of, 456, 457; Mer- 
cato dei Grani, 468; Mercato 
Nuovo, 468; II Moretto (Alessan- 
dro Bonvicini), 430, 447, 448, 466, 
467, 468, 469, 477, 478, 484, 485, 
486, 489, 490; Moretto, statue of, 
469; Moroni, G. B., 431, 490; 
Museo Civico Eta Romana, 450, 
451; Museo del Risorgimento, 
492-494; Museo Medioevale, 449, 
454-458, 462; SS. Nazzaro e Celso, 
church of, 483-485; Palazzo 
Calzavellio, 474; Palazzo Fe, 485; 
Palazzo Masperi, 474; Palazzo 
Municipale, 436-439; Palazzo To- 
sio. 473; Palladio, 437; Palma 
Vecchio, 447, 448; Pampaloni, 
489; patron saints, 445; Piazza, 
Calisto, 468; Piazza Comune, 434, 
436; Piazza del Duomo, 434, 439; 
Piazza del Museo, 449; Piazza 
della Posta, 449; Piazza Moretto, 
469; Piazza Nuova, 435; Piazza 
Tito Speri, 442, 486; S. Pietro, 
church of, 488, 489; plan of, 434; 
Porta Milano, 475; Porta Stazi- 
one, 433, 495; Prato, Francesco 
da, 486; Queriniana Library, 449; 
Raphael, 490; Risorgimento, 418, 
428; Roman Brescia, 419, 434, 
449-453; Roman painting, 448; 
Roman theatre, 452; Romanino, 



Girolamo, 430, 447, 448, 463, 467, 
468, 478, 479, 486, 490; S. Salva- 
tore, church of, 454, 455, 463, 493; 
Sansovino, 437, 489; Savoldo, 
Geronimo, 430, 431, 491; Scali- 
gers, the, 421 ; Sforza, Francesco, 
424, 425; shops, the, 481; situa- 
tion, 419; socialism of the people, 
481, 482; Speri, Tito, 428, 429, 
442, 492, 494, tomb of, 442; Tem- 
ple of Hercules, 434, 449; Ten 
Days of, 429; Ten Days monu- 
ment, 438; Thorvaldsen, 489; 
Tintoretto, 470; Titian, 471, 484; 
Torre della Pallata, 475; tram- 
ways, 483; Venice, rule of, 424- 
427; Veronese, Paolo, 470; Ves- 
pasian, 449, 450; Via delle Spa- 
derie, 435, 436; Via Gambara, 487; 
Victory, statue of, 450, 451 ; Vis- 
conti, Gian Galeazzo, 437; Vis- 
conti, the, 421, 422, 424, 425; 
Viti, Timoteo, 490; wine-presses of 
the streets, 479, 480; Zanardelli 
monument, 495, 496; Zoppo, 
Paolo, 429, 456, 489. 

Brusasorci, 345, 346, 371, 372, 378, 
381, 391, 399, 402, 405. 

Buonconsiglio, Giovanni, 106, 132, 
133, 510, 511, 512, 513, 514. 

Cafe-life, 182-184, 480. 
Calderari, 107, 131. 
Calisto (St. Calixtus), 308, 309, 310. 
Cambrai, League of, 4, 20, 29, 104, 

105, 342, 427. 
Campione, Ugo da, 446. 
Campagna, Girolamo, 72, 212, 361. 
Campagnola, Dario, 94. 
Campagnola, Domenico, 33, 36, 80, 

91, 92, 95, 96, 129. 
Campagnola, Giulio, 95. 
Campo Formio, 278. 
Canova, 150, 153. 
Capelletti (Capulets), the, 332, 337, 

397. 
Carea, town of, 504. 



592 



INDEX 



Cariani, Giovanni, 551, 552. 

Carmagnola, 424, 425. 

Carnio, Antonio, 277. 

Caroto, F., 345, 374, 377, 390, 399, 
401, 404, 409. 

Carpaccio, V., 248, 554. 

Carpi, Girolamo, 551. 

Carrara, della, the, 19, 103, 139, 164, 
178,226,261,341,421,500. 

Carrara, della, Francesco, 19, 179, 
341, 424, 570, 572, 580. 

Carrara, della, Francesco Novello, 
19, 30. 

Carrara, della, Jacopo 1, 19, 103. 

Carrara, della, Jacopo II, 21, 33, 35, 
47. 

Carrara, della, Ubertino, 33, 47. 

Casarsa, 280. 

Castelfranco: albergo, 162, 163, 168- 
170; castle, 160, 161, 163, 171; 
church, 171-174; conclave of, 164; 
Costanza house, 175; Costanza, 
Matteo, 165, 166, 172, 174; Cos- 
tanza, Tuzio, 161, 165, 172; fairs 
of, 175; festa, 170; fortress, 161, 
164, 171; eastern gate of, 175; 
Giorgione, life and work, 165-167, 
statue of, 165, pala of, 173, 174, 
frescoes of, 175, 176, house of, 175; 
history, IQl, 164, 165; Municipio, 
171; lottery-drawing, 163; Palma 
Giovane, 173; piazza, 160, 175; 
Pordenone, 176; promenade along 
the fosse, 170; unpleasant experi- 
ence, 168-170; Veronese, Paolo, 
172, 173; walls and battlements, 
160. 164, 165. 

Cattajo, Castle, 565-569. 

Catullus, 344, 419, 432. 

Cavallotti, Felice, bust of, 522. 

Cavazzola, 345, 366, 390, 402, 405, 
406, 409, 410. 

Ceneda {see Serravalle): Amalteo, 
256; aspect, 252; counts of, 244, 
247, 248; Duomo, 252, 253; 
Fiori, Jacobello del, 251, 253; 
Marchese Costantini, gardens of, 



252, 256, 257; Municipio, 252; 
Palazzo Municipale, 255, 256; 
Palma Giovane, 253; Tiepolo, 
253; Titian, 253-255; Valentina, 
Jacopo, 253; Vescovodo, 252. 

Charlemagne, 274, 330, 331, 464, 
518, 529. 

Chaucer, 30. 

Chioggia, 558. 

Cima da Conegliano, 107, 130, 226, 
227, 230, 231, 410, 528, 549, 550, 
554. 

Cittadella: Bassano, Francesco, 159; 
Bassano, Leandro, 159; church, 
158, 159; fosse, 159; history, 155, 
156; main streets, 157; Municipio, 
158; piazza, 158; Porta Bassano, 
157, 158; Porta Padovana, 156, 
157; Porta Trevisana, 158; Pre- 
fettura, 158; situation, 155; Vene- 
tian Lion, 158; walls, city, 141, 
155, 156, 157. 

Civerchio, Vincenzo, 429, 430, 472, 
478. 491. 

Cividale : Amalteo, 313 ; Baptistery of 
Calixtus, 310; Calisto (Calixtus) 
308, 309; Chapel of St. Peltrudis, 
307, 313-318; Convent of the 
Ursulines, 313-318; Duomo, 309 
310-313; history, 273-275, 307, 
308; S. Maria de' Battuti, 318 
319; S. Maria in Valle, 319; S 
Martino, church of, 318, 319 
S. Martino, quarter of, 314; Men 
Pietro, 311; Museo Civico, 319- 
321; Palazzo Municipale, 309 
Palma Giovane, 311, 312, 313 
Palma Vecchio, 311; Patriarchs; 
274, 275, 308, 312; Pellegrino, 319 
Ponte del Diavolo, 318; Seccante, 
Sebastiano, 311; situation, 308 
314; Tiepolo, G. B., 313. 

Codroipo, 280. 

Colalto, castle and counts of, 236- 
243. 

Conegliano: aspect, 225; Casa Borgo 
della Madonna, 231; castle, 225, 



INDEX 



593 



226, 232, tower of, 232, 233, view 
from, 233; Cima, Gian Battista, 
life and work, 226, 227, pala of, 
230, 231; Dario, 232; Duomo, 

227, 228, 230; history, 226; opera- 
house, 229; Palazzo Municipale, 
229; Piazza Venti Settembre, 229; 
situation, 226. 

Constantine, 272, 326. 

Cormor river, 277. 

Cornaro, Queen Caterina, 154, 427. 

Costanzi, the, 161, 165, 166, 172. 

174, 175. 
Crivelli, Carlo, 410. 
Customs of citizens, 375, 480-482. 
Custozza, 343, 416. 

Dandolo, Enrico, 4. 

Daniele, S., town of, 306. 

Dante, 21, 22, 46, 60, 179, 201, 336, 

337, 358, 372, 411, 414. 
Da Ponte, Francesco, 140, 150, 

151, 212. 
Da Ponte, Francesco, Jr., 140, 159. 
Da Ponte, Girolamo, 140, 144. 
Da Ponte, Jacopo, 36, 96, 130, 131, 

140, 145, 151, 153. 
Da Ponte, Leandro, 126, 140, 148, 

151, 159, 213, 268. 
Dario, 180, 232, 269. 
D'Avanzo, Jacopo, 22, 33, 69, 70, 

78, 344, 367. 
D'Azelio, Massimo, 106. 
Delia Scala {see Scala). 
Desenzano, 433. 

Desiderius, 330, 420, 454, 459, 463. 
Domenichino, 129, 556. 
Donatello, 24, 55, 64, 66, 68, 74, 75, 

76. 
Dorando, General, 106. 
Dossi, Dosso, 556. 
Diirer, Albrecht, 556. 

Elena, S., Castle, 559, 560, 563, 564. 

Este: albergo, 519; Archangel Ga- 
briel, church of, 527; Bacchiglione 
River, 527; castle, 520; Cathedral 



of S. Tecla, 523. 524; Cima da 
Conegliano, 528; clock and bell 
tower, 526, 527; Estensi, history 
of the, 498-500; Frussine River, 
527; history, 498-501; S. Maria 
delle Consolazioni, church of, 527, 
528; S. Martino, church of, 526; 
moat, 527; mosaics, Roman, 525; 
Museum, 525; Palazzo Munici- 
pale, 520; Piazza Maggiore, 518, 
519; Pelasgian relics, 525; Porta 
Vecchia, 527 ; S. Rocco, church of, 
527; Roman relics, 525; situa- 
tion, 518; Tiepolo, G. B., 524; Via 
Monache, 527; Via Principe Um- 
berto, 518; Via Vittorio Emanu- 
ele, 526; Villa Benvenuti, 523. 

Estensi, arms of, 520. 

Estensi, castle of {see Este). 

Estensi, the, 498-500, 518, 519, 529, 
530, 533, 541, 542, 565. 

Euganean Hills, 25, 100, 497, 504, 
518, 528, 529, 530, 559, 569. 

Eusebio di S. Giorgio, 410. 

Ezzehno da Romano, 17-19, 52, 59, 
63, 88, 89, 101, 102, 139, 141, 178, 
226, 333, 387, 420, 421, 499, 529, 
530. 

Falconetto, 32, 69, 92, 96, 346, 369, 

372, 402. 
Farinato, P., 346, 371, 399, 401, 

402. 
Farming systems of plain, 573-576. 

See Agriculture; Peasant-life. 
Fasolo, 121. 

Ferramola, 429, 430, 453. 
Ferrara, Bono da, 50, 52. 
Ferrari, Gaudenzio, 137, 489. 
Fiore, Jacobello del, 251, 253. 
Floods of Venetia, 224, 259, 280, 

348, 349. 
Fogazzaro, A., 107. 
Fogolino, 125, 267. 
Foppa, the younger, 453. 
Foppa, Vincenzo, 429, 477, 484, 489. 
Forli, Ansuino da, 50, 52. 



594 



INDEX 



Forum Julii, 271, 273, 274. See 

Cividale. 
Fra Giocondo of Verona, 193, 360. 
Fra Giovanni da Verona, 406. 
Fra Giovanni of Vicenza, 101, 102, 

333. 
Fra Girolamo da Brescia, 89. 
Francia, 83, 410, 477, 478, 490. 
Frederick I, Barbarossa, 101, 332, 

420. 
Frederick II, Emperor, 17, 88, 89, 

101, 332. 333, 420. 
Freedom of person, speech, and 

press, 482. 
Friuli, art of, 276, 277; description 

of, 258-260; history of, 260, 261, 

271-276. 
Frizimelaga, Francesco, 251. 
Fromentone, Tommaso, 107, 437. 
Frussine river, 527. 
Fusina, 6, 7. 

Galileo, 30, 54. 

Galla Placidia, life and cross of, 457- 

462. 
Gambara, Lattanzio, 431. 
jGarda, Lake, 431-433. 
Garofalo, 83, 404, 551. 
Gaston de Foix, 426. 
Gattamelata, t4, 425; statue of, 55, 

56, 64, 65. 
Gemona, 306. 

Giacomelli, Villa, see Maser. 
Gianpetrino, 556. 

Giocondo, Fra, da Verona, 193, 360. 
Giolfino, Niccolo, 346, 368, 370, 382, 

390, 391, 405, 409. 
Giolfino, Paolo, 346. 
Giordano, Luca, 90. 
Giorgione, 82, 165-167, 172, 173- 

175, 186,187, 555. 
Giotto, 21, 22, 37-46, 56, 336, 358. 
Giovanni, Fra, da Verona, 406. 
Giovanni, Fra, da Vicenza, 101, 102, 

333. 
Giovanni da Udine, 291, 298, 299, 

300, 306. 



Girolamo da Santa Croce, 94, 95. 
Girolamo da Treviso, 180, 191. 
Girolamo da Udine, 277, 284, 295, 

296. 
Girolamo dai Libri, see Libri. 
Girolamo del Toso, 130. 
Gisulf, 273, 307. 
Giuseppini, F., 296. 
Goldsmith, Oliver, 21. 
Gonzaga, Vespasiano, 128. 
Grado, 274, 275, 307. 
Grassi, 291. 

Guariento, 33, 35, 47, 152. 
Guercino, 405, 406, 491. 

Haynau, General, 428, 429. 
Holbein, Jan, 556. 
Honoria, 458, 461, 462. 
Honorius, 459, 460, 461. 

lUasi, 347, 415. 

Jones, Inigo, 108. 

Justinian, Emperor, 273, 329. 

Landlords of Venetia, 574, 575. 
Legnago, 501, 504. 
Leopardi, Alessandro, 89. 
Leyden, Luca von, 556, 558. 
Liberale, 345, 346, 356, 368, 370, 

373, 404, 409. 
Libri, Girolamo dai, 345, 355, 366, 

367, 376, 377, 400, 402, 404, 407, 

409. 
Livenza river, 259. 
Livy, 16, 56, 57, 559. 
Lombard League, 101, 102, 332, 420. 
Lombardi, the, 189, 190, 191, 209. 
Lombardo, Antonio, 72. 
Lombardo, Pietro, 189, 191, 209. 
Lombardo, Tullio, 72, 209. 
Lombardy, Plain of, see Plain. 
Lotto, Lorenzo, 180, 213, 490. 
Luini, Bernardino, 465. 

Mabuse, Jan, 556. 
Macer, Emilias, 344. 



INDEX 



595 



Maffei, Scipione, 344. 

Maggi, Bishop Berardo, tomb of, 
446. 

Malamocco, 1. 

Mansueti, 410. 

Mantegna, Andrea, 23, 50, 51, 52, 
66, 106, 367, 371, 388, 410, 490, 
556. 

Manufacturing, modern, 488. 

Marco Palmesano da Forli, 490. 

Marconi, Rocco, 180. 

Marostica, town of, 137, 153, 154. 

Martinengo, Count, 427, 428, 469. 

Martini, Giovanni, 276, 284, 291. 

Martini of Verona, 344, 367. 

S. Martino, 416. 

Maser, village of, 214; frescoes by P. 
Veronese, 214, 219; trip to, from 
Treviso, 214; Villa Giacomelli, 
214, 216-223, erected by Palladio, 
214, 216, stucco work by A. Vit- 
toria, 214, 216. 

Meri, Pietro, 311. 

Michiel, Domenico, 3, 4. 

Minelli, Giovanni, 69, 145. 

Mocetto, 130, 407. 

Monselice: Balbi-Valier, villa and 
family, 537, 538; Battaglia canal, 
531; castle, history and aspect, 
528, 529, 530; castle hill, 531, 534, 
537, 538; cemetery, 536; city clock- 
tower, 532, 533; Duodo, Conti, 
537, 538; Duomo, 535; Estensi, 
the, 529, 530, 533; Frussine, 527, 
528; Garibaldi Memorial, 532; 
Geraldi, Contessa and Palazzo, 
533, 534; S. Giustina, 535; Grotta 
di S. Francesco, 537; history, 529, 
530; main street, 531; martyrs, 
bodies of, 538; Monte de Pieta, 
532; palaces, noble, 533; Palazzo 
dei Conti Nani, 535; Palazzo 
Marcello, 533; Palazzo Munici- 
pale, 532; Piazza Vittorio Eman- 
uele, 532, 533; situation, 528, 529; 
Villa Valier, 537, 538; walls, 
531. 



Montagna, Bart. , 96, 106, 107, 116, 
126, 130, 135, 402. 

Montagnana: albergo, 505; aspect 
of the country, 497, 498, 502, 503; 
Buonconsiglio, 510, 511, 512, 513, 
514; castello, 514; Cavallerizza, 
515; district of the Polesine, 497; 
Duomo, 506, 509-512; S. Fran- 
cesco, church of, 516; history of 
the Polesine, 497-501 ; main street, 
514; Municipio, 513; Piazza 
Grande, 506-508, 513,516; Porta 
Legnago, 517; Porta S. Zeno, 514; 
Sammicheli, 513, 514; tomb of 
Admiral Pisani, 512; Villa Pisani, 
516; Vittorio Emanuele II, monu- 
ment to, 506; walls of, 500, 501. 

Montagues, the, see Montecchi. 

Monte Berici, 100, 105, 106, 120, 
133, 134, 135, 136, 346. 

Monte Cisone, 258. 

Montebello, 347. 

Montecchi, the, 332, 346; castles of, 
137, 346. 

Montecchio, village of, 137, 346. 

Montorio, 411. 

Moretto, 377, 381, 402, 410, 430, 447, 
448, 466, 467, 468, 469, 477, 478, 
484, 485, 486, 489, 490. 

Morone, Andrea, 89. 

Morone, Domenico, 411. 

Morone, Francesco, 345, 390, 405, 
409, 410. 

Moroni, G. B., 431, 490, 

Music, regimental, 183. 

Napoleon the Great, 14, 15, 105, 139, 
179, 278, 298, 343, 347, 354, 493. 

Narses, 329, 529. 

Naviglio Adigetto, 540, 543, 547, 
548. 

Newspapers of Venetia, 481. 

Nugent, General, 105. 

Octroi duties, 280. 
Odoacer, 273, 326, 327, 328. 
Olivi, Giuseppe, 192. 



596 



INDEX 



Orderliness of Venetia, 482. 
Orseolo, Pietro, 3. 

Padovanino, Alessandro Varotari, 
36, 93, 95, 268. 

Padovano, Giusto, 22, 23, 57-59. 

Padua: Accoramboni, Vittoria, 48, 
49; Altichieri, 22, 69-72, 78, 79; An- 
tenor, 16, 28, 60, 85; Antonello da 
Messina, 83; S. Antonio, 62-64, 
87, 88; S. Antonio, church of, 19, 
22, 24, 47, 64-77; Area Vallaresso, 
35; Archbishop's Palace, 34, 35; 
Arena, 26, 37; Ariosto, 18; art of, 
22-24; Attila, 16; Bacchiglione 
river, 25, 26, 60, 80; Baptistery, 
19, 35, 36, 57-59; Barriera Maz- 
zini, 26, 29; Bassano, Jacopo, 96; 
Bellano, 47, 75, 95, 96; Bellini, 
Gentile, 83; Bellini, Giovanni, 83; 
Bellini, Jacopo, 23; Boccaccino, 
Boccaccio, 83; Boselli, Antonio, 67; 
Brenta Canal, 25; Cafle Pedroc- 
chi, 37, 82; Campagna, G., 72; 
Campagnola, Dom., 33, 36, 80, 
91, 92, 95, 96; Cappella S. Giorgio, 
78; Carmine, church of, 29, 93; 
Carmine, Scuola del, 93-95; Car- 
rara, della, Francesco, 19, 20; 
Carrara, dell», Francesco Novello, 
19, 20, 30; Carrara, della, Jacopo 
I, 19; Carrara, della, Jacopo II 
(Minore), 21, 33, 47; Carrara, 
della, Ubertino, 33, 47; Carrara, 
delle (Jacopo Minore and Uber- 
tino), tombs of, 47; castle of Ezze- 
lino, 18, 59; Chaucer, 30; collec- 
tions, various, of city, see Museo 
Civico; Dante, 16, 17, 18, 21, 22 
60; D'Avanzo, Jacopo, 22, 33, 69 
70, 78, 79; Delesmanini Palace, 38 
Donatello, 24, 55, 56, 64, 66, 74 
75, 76; Dondi, Giacomo, clock, 32 
Duomo, 35, 57-59; Eremetani. 
church of the, 19, 24, 46, 49-52 
Ezzelino, 17, 18, 19, 52, 59, 63, 88 
89; Ezzelino's prisons, 18, 29 



Falconetto, 32, 69, 92, 96; Fer- 
rara. Bona da, 50, 52; Forli, An- 
suino da, 50, 52; Fra Giovanni, 
47, 56; Fra Girolamo of Brescia, 
89; S. Francesca, 96; Francia. 
83; Frederick II, 17, 88, 89; Gali- 
leo, 30, 54; gallery of art, see 
Museo Civico; Garofalo, 83; Gatta 
di S. Andrea, 52; Gattamelata, 
statue, 24, 55, 64 ; Giordano, Luca, 
90; Giorgione, 82; Giotto, 21, 22, 
38-46, 56; Girolamo del Santo, 
96; S. Giustina, 88, 90, 91; S. 
Giustina, church of, 88, 89; Gua- 
riento, 33, 47; history, 16-24, 499, 
500, 529, 530; hotel, 27, 28; 
League of Cambrai, 20; Leopardi, 
A., 89; Livy, 16, 56; Loggia del 
ConsigUo, 34; Loggia Municipale, 
87; Lombardo, Antonio, 72; Lom- 
bardo, TulHo, 72; Madonna dell' 
Arena, church of, 22, 37-46; main 
streets, 28, 29; Mantegna, 23, 24, 
50, 51, 66; S. Maria in Vanzo, 
church of, 96; S. Massimo, church 
of, 96; S. Michele, church of, 96; 
Minello, G., 69; Miretto, Zuan, 56; 
moats, 25, 26, 27, 28, 59, 60; Mon- 
tagna, B., 96; Monte di Pieta, 34; 
Morone, A., 89; Museo Civico, 
82-85; Orto Botanico, 80, 81; 
Padovano, Giusto, 22, 57; Pado- 
vanino, 36, 93, 95; Palazzo Cav- 
alli, 48; Palazzo del Capitanio, 31, 

32, 34; Palazzo Giustinian, 92; 
PalladJo, 32; Palma Giovane, 90, 
96; Palma Vecchio, 82, 95; Parodi, 
73, 91; Pironi, G., 72; Petrarch, 

21, 30, 33, 35, 47; Piazza dei 
Frutti, 36, 57; Piazza del Duomo, 

33, 34; Piazza delle Erbe, 36, 55; 
Piazza Unit^ d'ltalia (deiSignori), 
9; S. Pietro, church of, 95; Pisano, 
Giovanni, 22, 46; Pisano, Niccolo, 

22, 65; Pizzolo, Niccolo, 50, 52; 
plain of, 25, 26; Ponte Molino, 
26, 30; Pordenone, 84; Porta 



INDEX 



597 



Altinate, 27; Porta Portello, 96; 
Porta S. Giovanni, 96; Porta 
Savonarola, 96; Prato della Valle, 
85, 87; Previtali, 85; S. Prosdo- 
cimo, 88,89, 90;Reggia Carrarese, 
31, 33; Riccio, A., 69, 75, 77, 89, 
96; Ridolfi, Bart., 92, 93; Rocca- 
bonella, Pletro, tomb of, 96; Ro- 
man Forum, 32, 37, 82; Roman- 
ino, 84; Salone, 17, 22, 36, 47, 55; 
Sammicheli, 68; Sansovino, J., 37, 
53, 69, 72; Santi, Andriolo de', 47, 
69; Scala, della, the, 19; Schia- 
vone, 36; Scrovegno, Enrico, 38, 
39, 46; Scuola del Santo, 79; 
Scuola S. Rocco, 95; Squarcione, 
23, 24, 50, 51, 77; Tasso, Tor- 
quato, 21; Tiepolo, 85, 96; Tin- 
toretto, 84; Titian, 80, 83, 84, 94, 
95; University, 17, 20, 21, 37, 52- 
55, 86, 87; University, library of, 
33; Venetian Lion, 31, 32; Vene- 
tian rule, 20; Veronese, Paolo, 85, 
91, 96; Via Dante, 26, 29, 30, 31; 
Via Garibaldi, 28, 29, 37; Visconti, 
Gian Galeazzo, 19, 20; Vittorio 
Emanuele II, statue of, 34; walls 
of, 26, 27, 29, 30; Zilie (by Zilio, 
and his fate), 59, 60. 

Palladio, Andrea, 10, 12, 32, 107, 
108, 110, 114, 115, 117, 118, 120, 
121, 125, 127, 128, 130, 131, 132, 
133, 134, 136, 216, 293, 437. 

Palma Giovane, 90, 95, 173, 198, 
202, 211, 212, 253, 300, 304, 311, 
312, 313. 

Palma Vecchio, 82, 95, 107, 124, 198, 
213, 311, 410, 447, 448, 554, 
555. 

Pampaloni, 489. 

Panetti, Domenico, 550. 

Parodi, 73, 91. 

Paterani, sect of, 393. 

Patriarchs of Aquileia, see Aquileia. 

Peasant life, 98, 99, 216, 259, 502, 
503, 573-575. 

Pelasgian relics, 525. 



Pellegrino da S. Daniele, 276, 284, 

303, 306, 307, 308, 319. 
Pensabene, 210. 
Pepin, 330, 331. 
Perugino, 410. 
Peschiera, 431, 432. ' 
Petrarch, 21, 30, 33, 35, 47, 372, 570, 

571, 572, 577, 579-585. 
Piave, the, 138, 177, 214, 215, 224. 
Piazza, Calista, 468. 
Piazza-life, 182-184. 
Pindemonte, 344. 
Piombo, Sebastiano del, 208, 555. 
Pironi, G., 72, 116, 118. 
Pisanello, 344, 345, 367, 409. 
Pisani, the, 6, 11, 14, 516. 
Pisano, Giovanni, 22, 46. 
Pisano, Niccolo, 22, 65. 
Pizzolo, N., 50, 52. 
Plagues, 343, 349. 
Plain, description of, 15, 97-100, 

215, 216, 259, 260, 501-503, 572, 

576. 
Pliny, 344. 

Polesine, canals of, 501. 
Polesine, history of, 497-501. 
Police of Venetia, 282, 436. 
Pompei, Conti and Castle of, 414. 
Popular rule, 158, 482. 
Pordenone: Bassano, L., 268; Dario, 

269; Duomo, 267; Fogolino, 267; 

history, 260, 261; II Pordenone, 

life of, 261, 262, paintings of, 265- 

270; Palazzo Municipale, 263; 

picture gallery, 268; town of, 260; 

Varotari, A. (Padovanino), 268. 
Pordenone, II, 84, 150, 176, 187, 191, 

207, 240, 243, 261-263, 265-270, 

277, 280, 284, 285, 290, 291, 296, 

301, 302, 306, 555. 
Possagno, town of, 150. 
Prato, Francesco da, 486. 
Previtali, 85, 255. 

Quadrilateral, 343, 432, 501. 
Quiricius de Joanes d' Alemagna, 
554. 



598 



INDEX 



Radetsky, Marshal, 105, 135, 136. 

Raphael, 490. 

Recoaro, 137. 

Retrone river, 109. 

Riccio, Andrea, 69, 75, 89, 96, 399. 

Ridolfi, Bart., 92. 

Risorgimento, 105, 119, 134, 136, 
192, 393, 427-429. 

Ristori, Adelaide, 321, 393. 

Rivers and dikes of Veneto, 224, 225, 
259, 280. 

Roads of Venetia, 234, 235. 

Roggia Canal, 277, 278, 279, 300, 
303. 

Romanino, Girolamo, 84, 377, 430, 
"447, 448, 463, 467, 478, 479, 486, 
490. 

Romeo and Juhet, 332, 337, 346; 
tomb of, 396. 

Romilda, 274. 

Rosamund, 329, 330. 

Rovigo: Accademia dei Concordi, 
546; Badile, A., 555, 556; Basaiti, 
555; Belli, M., 555; Bellini, Gen- 
tile, 554; Bellini, Giovanni, 554; 
Bonifazio, 555; Cariani, Giovanni, 
551; Carpaccio, 554; Carpi, Giro- 
lamo, 551; Casa Barufi, 553, 557; 
Cathedral, 547, 548; Cima da 
Conegliano, ^9, 550, 554; citadel, 
548; Domenichino, 556; Dossi, 
Dosso, 556; S. Francesco, church 
of, 549 ; Garof alo, 551; Gianpetrino, 
556; Giorgione, 555; history, 540- 
542; Holbein, Jan, 556; hotel, 542; 
La Rotonda, 552; Luca von Ley- 
den, 556; Mabuse, Jan, 556; Man- 
tegna, 556; Naviglio Adigetto, 
540, 543, 547, 548; Palazzo Com- 
unale, 545; Palazzo Roncalli, 544; 
Palma Vecchio, 554; Panetti, 
Domenico, 550; Piazza del Cas- 
tello, 548; Piazza Garibaldi, 547, 
549; Piazza Venti Settembre, 552; 
Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, 545; 
picture gallery, 553-556; Porde- 
none, 555; Porta S. Bartolommeo, 



547; Quiricius d'Alemagna, 554; 
Sammicheli, 544; von Schwaz, 
Hans, 556; Sebastianoidel Piombo, 
555; situation, 540; Tiepolo, 555; 
Tintoretto, 555; Titian, 555; Uni- 
versita Popolare, 546; Valentina, 
Jacopo, 556; Venetian Lion, 545; 
Vivarini, Bart., 554; Vivarini, 
Luigi, 554; Zuccari, Federigo, 556. 

Salvatore, S., castle: Colalti, the, 
236, 241, 242; description of, 236- 
243; history of, 236; legend of, 
238, 239; paintings of Pordenone, 
240. 

Sammicheli, Michele, 68, 342, 358, 
369, 381, 382, 384, 389, 390, 394, 
513, 514, 544; tomb of, 404. 

Sansovino, Jacopo, 37, 53, 67, 72, 
192. 437, 489. 

Santi, Andreolo de', 47, 69. 

Savoldo, G., 210, 211, 405, 491. 

Scala, Can Grande della, 103, 139, 
178, 261, 335-337, 411, 412, 413, 
414, 421, 530, 541. 

Scala, the della, 19, 103, 139, 179, 
226, 261, 333-341, 347, 411, 412, 
416, 421, 500, 530, 541. See also 
Verona. 

Scamozzi, Vincenzo, 107, 111, 114, 
129. 

Schiavone, 36. 

Schio, town of, 137. 

Serravalle {see Ceneda): albergo, 
245, 249; Amalteo, 248; art of, 
248; aspect, 246; Basaiti, 248, 251 
Bosco del Consiglio, 258;Brandolin 
Castle, 258; Carpaccio, 248 
castle, 247; Duomo, 247, 248, 249, 
252; excursions from, 258; Fiore, 
Jacobello del, 251; Frizimelaga, 
Francesco, 251; S. Giovanni Bat 
tista, church of, 250; history, 248 
S. Lorenzo, church of, 251; main 
streets, 246, 249; Milano, Fran 
cesco da, 248, 251; Palazzo Muni 
cipale, 247; situation 245; Titian, 



INDEX 



599 



248, 249; Valentina, J. da, 248. 
251 ; Venetian Lion, 248; walk out- 
side the gates, 249, 250. 

Sforza, Francesco, 424. 
Sforzas, the, 424-426. 
Shakespeare, 332, 337, 
Shops of Venetia, 375, 481. 
Sidney, Sir Philip, 21. 
Sirmione, 415, 432. 
Soave, 347, 411-414. 
Socialism, spread of, 158, 481, 482. 
Solferino, 416. 
Speranza, Giovanni, 106. 
Speri, Tito. 428, 429, 442, 492, 494. 
Squarcione, 23, 24. 50, 51. 
Steno, Michele, 4. 
Stra, Palace of, 6, 11, 12-15. 
Susegana, church of. 243; village of, 
235; Pordenone, 243. 

Tagliamento river, 280. 
Tasso, Torquato. 21. 
Theodolinda. 330, 349. 
Theodoric the Great, 224, 273, 324, 

327, 328, 348, 378, 379, 380, 559. 
Theodosius, 459, 461. 
Thiene, town of, 137. 
Thorvaldsen. 489. 
Tiepoli. the. 99. 
Tiepolo. G. B., 14, 85, 96, 136, 285, 

298. 299, 304, 313, 555. 
Tintoretto, 84, 125, 213, 305, 470, 

555. 
Titian, 80, 83, 84, 95, 190, 214, 248, 

249, 253-255, 370, 471, 484, 555. 
Tolmezzo, Domenico da, 276, 284. 
Tommaso da Modena, 180, 205. 206, 

207, 208, 209, 212. 
Torbido, 345, 346, 370, 410. 
Torcello. 3. 
Torre river. 277, 308. 
Tramway systems. 483. 
Tregnano. 347, 415. 
Trento. 154. 
Treviso: S. Agnese, church of, 203; 

Alberic, 178; Amalteo, 191; S. 

Andrea, church of, 200; Antonio 



da Treviso, 208; art of, 179, 180; 
bands, Italian (music), 183; Bas- 
sano, F., 212; Bassano. L.. 213; 
Bellini. Giovanni. 198, 200, 209, 
213; Bevilacqua, 200; Biblioteca, 
203; Bissolo, 192; Bordone, Paris, 
180, 190, 191, 192, 213; Botteniga 
river, 179, 180. 182. 194. 198. 201; 
Botteniga and Slle, confluence of, 
201; Bregni. the. 191; cafe and 
cafe life. 183; cafes, 182, 184; Cam- 
pagna, G., 212; Casa Alessandrini, 
187; Casa Lezze Casellati, 197; 
S. Cristina, 213; Dante, monu- 
ment to, 201; Dario, 180; Duomo, 

188, 189, 202; Ezzelino, 178; Fra 
Giocondo of Verona, 193; Gior- 
gione, 186; Girolamo da Treviso, 
180, 191; S. Gregorio, church of, 
202; history, 178, 179; hospital, 
198; hotel, 181; Lombardi, the, 
190, 191, 209; Lombardo, Pietro, 

189, 191; Lotto, Lorenzo, 180, 
213; S. Lucia, church of, 186; 
Marconi, Rocco, 180; S. Maria 
Maddalena, church of, 195; S. 
Maria Maggiore, church of, 197; 
moat, 180, 181, 194; Monte di 
Pieta, 186; Municipio, 193; Museo 
Comunale, 203-206; S. Niccolo, 
church of, 206-212; Olivi, Giu- 
seppe, house of, 192; Onigo, Count 
Antonio, palazzo, 200, tomb of, 
209; Palma Giovane, 198. 202, 
211, 212; Palma Vecchio, 198. 
213; Pennachi, Pietro, 180; Pensa- 
bene, Fra Marco, 210; Piazza dei 
Signori, 181, 182-184, 187, 212; 
piazza life, 182-184; Piazza Pola, 
202; picture gallery, 213; plan of, 
180; Pordenone, 187, 191, 197, 
207; Porta Cavour, 203; Porta 
Mazzini, 196; Porta S. Toma, 196; 
Pozzasaretto, 187; Prefettura, 182, 
184, 185, 187; rampart-walk, with 
view, 193, 194, 195, 196; Sanso- 
vino, 192; Savoldo, 210; Sebas- 



600 



INDEX 



tiano del Piombo, 208; Sile river, 
179, 181, 182, 201; situation, 178; 
suburb, 194; Tintoretto. 213; 
Titian, 191, 197; Tommaso da 
Modena, 180, 206, 207, 212; tribu- 
nale, 189; Vecellio, Marco, 186, 
212; Veronese, Paolo, 195, 213; 
Vescovado, 189; Via Cornarotta, 
193; Via Regina, 200; Via Venti 
Settembre, 181, 182; Via Vittorio 
Emanuele, 181, 182; S. Vito, 
church of, 186; walls, 180, 193. 

Udine: Amalteo, 277, 284, 291, 292, 
303; archbishop, and palace, 298, 
301; art of, 276; Attila, 272; 
Banca d'ltalia, 305; Beata Vir- 
gine delle Grazie, church of, 297; 
Bellunello, Andrea, 276, 284; 
Carnio, A., 277; Casa di Respar- 
mio, 304; castle, 272, 278, 286, 
287, 293, 294; castle archway, 293; 
Cormor river, 277; Duomo, 282; 
gallery of paintings, 295, 296; S. 
Giacomo, church of, 292; Giar- 
dino Pubblico, 298, 300; Giovanni 
da Udine, 277, 291, 298, 299, 306; 
Girolamo da Udine, 277, 284, 295; 
Giuseppini, F., 296; Grassi, 291; 
history of, 871-275, 278; hotel, 
280; library, city, 295, 304, 305; 
Martini, Giovanni, 276, 284, 291; 
Mercato Nuovo, 292; Mercato 
Vecchio, 279, 292; moat, 298, 300, 
303; museum of sculpture, 294; 
Palladio, 293; Palazzo Bartolini, 
304; Palazzo CaiseUi, 305; Pal- 
azzo Municipale, 288-292; Pal- 
azzo Tinghi, 301 ; Palma Giovane, 
300, 304; Patriarchs, 274, 275, 
278, 298, 299; Pellegrino, 276, 284, 
303, 308; Piazza d'Armi, 279, 297; 
Piazza Garibaldi, 302; Piazza 
Venti Settembre, 280, 281; Piazza 
Vittorio Emanuele, 279, 286; S. 
Pietro, church of, 308; S. Pietro 
Martire, church of, 304; plan, 278, 



279; Pordenone, 277, 284, 285, 
290, 296, 299, 301, 302; Porta 
Aquileia, 279, 308; Prefettura, 
301; Roggia Canal, 277, 278, 298, 
300, 303; S. Spirito, church of, 
303; Tiepoli, the, 285; Tiepolo, 
G. B., 285, 298, 299, 304, 305; 
Tintoretto, 305; Tolmezzo, Do- 
menico da, 276, 284; Torre river, 
277; Venetian Lion, 287, 288; 
Vescovado, 298, 301; Via Gorgni, 
300, 303; Via Posta, 286; Vittorio 
Emanuele, statue of, 288; walls, 
earliest, 298, 300; walls. Renais- 
sance, 279. 

Val d'Asti, 137. 

Val Sugana, 139, 146, 154. 

Valdagno, 137. 

Valeggio, 416. 

Valentina, Jacopo da, 248, 251, 253, 
556. 

Valentinian III, 458, 461, 462, 

Van Dyke, 129. 

Varotari, Alessandro, see Padovan- 
ino. 

Vecellio, Marco, 212. 

Veneziano, Lorenzo, 24, 116. 

Venice, history, 3-5, 20, 104, 105, 
139, 226, 274, 275, 278. 341, 342, 
424-427, 500, 541, 542. 

Venzone, 306. 

Verona: Adige, the, 323, 325, 347, 
348, 349, 384; Alaric, 326; Alboin, 
324, 329, 330; Aleardi, 344; Altich- 
ieri, 344, 358, 367, 391; Amphi- 
theatre, see Arena; S. Anastasia, 
church of, 365, 366; Antharis, 330, 
349; SS. ApostoU, church of, 382; 
Arco de' Gavi. 368; Arco Leoni, 
396; Arena, 328, 340, 343, 392, 
393; art of, 344; Attila, 326; Ba- 
dile, Antonio, 346, 391, 402; Bap- 
tistery, 371; Bellini, Gian, 410; 
Benaglio, Francesco, 345, 367, 
390, 402; Benaglio, Girolamo, 345; 
Berengarius, 331; S. Bernardino, 



INDEX 



601 



church of, 389, 390; Bertolini, 407; 
Biblioteca Capitolare, 372; Boni- 
fazio, 410; Bouino, 363; Bonsig- 
nori, 345, 346, 390, 401, 402; 
Brusasorci, 345, 346, 371, 372, 
374, 378, 381, 383, 391, 399, 402, 
405; Campagna, G., 361; Capel- 
letti (Capulets), the, 332, 337, 
397; Caroto, 345, 374, 377, 378, 
381. 390, 399, 401, 404, 409; Car- 
rara, Francesco della, 341; Casa 
dei Mercanti, 353; Casa dei Moz- 
zanti, 353; castel S. Pietro, 324, 
327, 348, 379; castel Vecchio, 
338, 380, 384; castle of Illasi, 414; 
castle of Montorio, 411; castle of 
Sirmione, 415; castle of Soave, 
347, 411-414; Castle Tregnano, 
415; castle of Valeggio, 416; castle 
of Villafranca, 415, 416; Catullus, 
344; Cavazzola, 345, 366, 390, 
402, 405, 406, 409; cemetery, 400; 
Charlemagne, 330, 331; S. Chiara, 
church of, 408; Cima da Cone- 
gllano, 410; Congress of Sover- 
eigns, 393; Crivelli, Carlo, 410; 
Dante, 336, 347, 372, 411, 414, 
statue of, 358; D' Avanzo, 344, 367; 
Duomo, 368-371; S. Elena, church 
of, 371; Ezzelino, 333, 387; S. Eu- 
femia, church of, 371, 372, 380, 
381; Eusebio di S. Giorgio, 410; 
Falconetto, 346, 369, 372, 402; 
Farinato, 346, 371, 399, 401, 402; 
S. Fermo, church of, 349, 396-399; 
floods of the Adige, 348, 349; Fra 
Giocondo, 360; Era Giovanni da 
Verona, 406; Fra Giovanni da Vi- 
cenza, 333; Francia, 410; Freder- 
ick II, 332, 333; Frederick Bar- 
barossa, 332; gallery of art, 399, 
408-410; Gallienus, 325, 382; gar- 
dens, public, 339; Garibaldi, statue 
of, 365; Garofalo, 404; Giardini 
Giusti, 403; Giolfino, Nic- 
colo, 346, 368, 370, 382, 390, 
391, 405, 409, house of, 382; 



Giolfino, Paolo, 346; S. Giorgio in 
Braida, church of, 376; Giotto, 
336, 358; S. Giovanni in Foro, 
church of, 381; S. Giovanni in 
Valle, church of, 407; Gran 
Guardia Vecchia, 394; Guercino, 
405; history, 322-344; hotel, 349; 
Justinian, 329; Lanzani, 410; Lib- 
erale, 345, 353, 356, 368, 370, 373, 
399, 404, 409; Libri, Girolamo 
dai, 345, 353, 355, 366, 376, 400, 
402, 404, 407, 409; S. Lorenzo, 
church of, 383; Macer, ^Emilius, 
344; MafFei, Scipione, 344, 395, 
statue of, 359; Mansueti, 410; 
Mantegna, 367, 371, 388, 410; 
S. Maria Antica, church of, 361; 
S. Maria della Scala, church of, 
391; S. Maria in Organo, church 
of, 404-407; S. Maria Matricu- 
lata, 371, 372; Martini of Verona, 
344, 367, 399; Michele da Verona, 
368; moat, the Visconti, 396; 
Montagna, Bart., 402; Montagues, 
the,5ee Montecchi ; Montecchi,the, 
332, 337, 346; Moretto, 377, 381, 
402, 410; Morone, Francesco, 345, 
390, 391, 405, 406, 409, 410; Museo 
Civico, 408-410; Museo Lapi- 
dario, 395; Napoleon the Great, 
343, 393; Narses, 329; SS. Naz- 
zaro e Celso, 401, 402; Odoacer, 
326, 327; Palazzo Bevilacqua, 
382; Palazzo Canossa, 384; Pal- 
azzo dei Canonici, 372; Palazzo 
dei Giuriconsulti, 356, 359; Pal- 
azzo del Consiglio, 356, 360, 361; 
Palazzo del Tribunale, 356, 357; 
Palazzo della Posta, 365; Palazzo 
Mafifei, 354; Palazzo Municipale, 
393; Palazzo Pompei, 399; Pal- 
azzo Ponzoni, 382; Palazzo Ra- 
gione, 353, 356, 357; Palazzo 
Zamboni, 373 ; Palma Vecchio, 410 ; 
S. Paolo di Campo Marzo, church 
of, 400; Paterani, massacre of the, 
393; Pepin, 330; Perugino, 410; 



602 



INDEX 



Petrarch, 372; Piazza Bra, 352, 
392, 393; Piazza Brolo, 374; Pi- 
azza dei Signori, 356; Piazza dell' 
Independenza, 365; Piazza delle 
Erbe, 349, 355; Piazza Vittorio 
Emanuele, see Piazza Bra; S. 
Pietro Martire, church of, 365; 
Pinacoteca, 408-410; Pinde- 
monte, 344; Pisanello, 344, 367, 
398, 409; plagues of Venetia, 343, 
349; Pliny, 344; Pompei, Conti, 
414; Pompei, the poet, 344; Pom- 
ponius Secundus, 344; Ponte 
Aleardi, 395, 400; Ponte delle 
Navi, 338, 339, 347, 374, 397; 
Ponte di Pietra, 374, 379; Ponte 
Garibaldi, 376; Porta Borsari, 
382; Porta Nuova, 394,395; Porta 
S. Bernardino, 389; Porta S. Zeno, 
389, 394; Porta Vescovo, 325, 347; 
Portoni, the, 394, 395; Prefettura, 

356, 358; Riccio, 399; Risorgi- 
mento, 343, 393; Roman baths 
and mosaics, 372; Roman theatre, 
379, 408; Romanino, 377; Ro- 
mano, Giulio, 370; Romeo and 
Juliet, 332, 337, 346, tomb of, 
396; Rosamund, 329, 330; Saints 
Fermo and Rustica, 328, 393; 
Sammicheli, •342, 358, 369, 381» 
382, 384, 389, 390, 394, tomb of, 
404; Sansovino, 370; Savoldo, 
405; Scala, della, 333-341, 356, 
tombs of, 361-364; Scala, Alberto 
della, 334, 353; Scala, Alboino 
della, 334, 335; Scala, Antonio del- 
la, 339, 340, 341; Scala, Bartolom- 
meo della, 335, 340, 358; Scala, 
Can Grande della, 335-337, 358, 
tomb of, 362, 363; Scala, Can 
Grande II della, 338, 384; Scala, 
Consignorio della, 338, 339, 354, 

357, tomb of, 362, 363; Scala, 
Mastino della, 333, 334, 358, 359, 
393; Scala, Mastino II della, 337, 
tomb of, 362, 363, 364; Scaligers, 
the, tombs of, 361-364; Shake- 



speare, 332, 337; SS. Siro e Libera, 
church of, 408; situation, 322, 
323; S. Stefano, church of, 378, 
379; Teatro Filarmone, 395; Theo- 
dolinda, 330, 349; Theodoric the 
Great, 324, 327, 348, 379; Titian, 
370; tomb of Count of Castel- 
barco, 365; tombs of the Scaligers, 
361-364; S. Tommaso Cantuari- 
ense, 403; Torbido, 345, 370, 399, 
410; Torre Lamberti, 353; Tri- 
buna, 354; Venetian Lion, 354; 
Venetian rule, 341-343; Veronese, 
Paolo, 346, 361, 377, 400, 409, 
410, statue of, 365; Veronese Ves- 
pers, 343; Veronetto, 324, 375, 
401, 403; Vescovado, 373; Via 
Nuova, 352; Via PonteiPietra, 375; 
Victor Emmanuel II, entry of, 
344, 393, statue of, 394; Visconti, 
Gian Galeazzo, 335, 341; Volte 
Barbaro, 334, 359; wall, the Vis- 
conti, 324, 352, 394; walls. Re- 
naissance, of Sammicheli, 324, 342, 
376, 389, 394, 395; walls, Roman, 
324, 328, 382, 392, 397; S. Zeno, 
328, 349, church of, 385-389; 
Zevio, Stefano da, 345, 367, 377, ^ 
379, 399, 407. 

Veronese, Paolo, 85, 91, 96, 125, 126, 
135, 137, 172, 195, 213, 218-222, 
346, 361, 377, 400, 401, 409, 410, 
470, 568. 

Vespasian, 325, 449, 450. 

Vicenza: art of, 106-109; Arco delle 
Scalette, 134; Bacchiglione, the, 
109; Banca Populare, 131; Basil- 
ica, 108, 117-120, 122; Bassano, 
J., 130, 131; Bassano, L., 126; 
Bellini, Giovanni, 126, 130; Buon- 
consiglio, G., 106, 132; Calderari, 
107, 131; Campagnola, Dom., 129; 
Casa Pigafetti, 123; Cima da 
Conegliano, 107, 130; S. Corona, 
church of, 125; Corso Porti, 132; 
D'Azelio, Massimo, 106; Domeni- 
chino, 129; Duomo, 115-117; 



INDEX 



603 



Ezzelino, 101, 102; Episcopal 
palace, 116; Fasolo, 121; Fogaz- 
zaro. A., 107; Fogolino, 125; Fra 
Giovanni, 101, 102; Fromentone, 
Tommaso, 107, 116; gallery of 
art, 129; Girolamo del Toso, 130; 
history, 100-106; Jones, Inigo, 
108; S. Lorenzo, church of, 132; 
Madonna del Monte, 134; Manteg- 
na, Andrea, 106; Mocetto, 130; 
Monte Berici, 100, 105. 106, 120, 
133, 134, 135; Montagna, Bart., 
106, 116, 126, 130, 135; Montagna, 
tomb of, 132; Monte di Pieta, 120; 
Museo Civico, 129; Palazzo Bo- 
nin. 111; Palazzo Braschi, 113; 
Palazzo Chieregati, 114; Palazzi 
CoUeoni, 132; Palazzo da Schio, 
114; Palazzo del Capitanio, 121; 
Palazzo del Conte Porto al Castello, 
110; Palazzo Loschi, 112; Palazzo 
Porto-Barbarano, 132; Palazzo 
Quirini, 113; Palazzo Thiene, 113, 
132; Palazzo Valmarana, 132; 
Palladio, Andrea, 107, 108, 110, 
114, 117, 118, 120, 121, 127, 131, 
132, 133, 134; Palladio, tomb and 
statue of, 125; Palma Vecchio, 
107, 124; Piazza dei Signori, 117; 
Piazza delle Erbe, 122, bridge of, 
123; Picutti, 129; Pironi, Giro- 
lamo, 72, 116, 118; Ponte S. 
Michele, 133; Porta Castello, 110; 
Porta del Luzzo, 133; Porto, Conte 
Orazio, 129; Retrone, the, 109, 
133; S. Rocco, church of, 132; 
Scamozzi, V., 107, 111, 114, 129; 
Scamozzi, tomb of, 132; situation, 
100; Speranzi, Giovanni, 106, 125; 



S. Stefano, church of, 124; Teatro 
Olympico, 115, 127; Tintoretto, 
125; Titian, 130; trip to, 97-100; 
Van Dyke, 129; Venetian Lion, 
120; Venetian rule, 104; Vene- 
ziano, Lorenzo, 116; Veronese, 
Paolo, 125, 135; Via Garibaldi, 
117; S. Vicenzo, church of, 122; 
Villa of Marchese Salvi, 113; 
Villa Rotonda, 136; Viti, Timoteo, 
130; Vittorio Emanuele, tomb of, 
116; Zanella, G., statue of. 132. 

Villa Cordellina, 137. 

Villa Giacomelli, 214, 216-223. 

Villa S. Salvatore, 235, 236, 

Villafranca, 416. 

Villages of the Plain, 97-99, 503. 

Vine culture, 502, 573-576. 

Visconti, Gian Galeazzo, 19, 20, 103, 
139, 261, 341, 422, 423, 437. 

Visconti, the, 103, 139, 261, 341, 
421-426. 

Viti, Timoteo, 130, 490. 

Vittoria, Alessandro, 214. 219, 220. 

Vittorio. town of, see Ceneda and 
Serravalle. 

Vivarini, Bartolommeo, 554. 

Vivarini, Luigi, 554. 

Wine-presses of the streets, 479, 480. 
Wines of Venetia, see Vine culture. 
Wormser, General, 139. 
Wotton, Sir Henry, 11, 90. 

Zelotti, Battista, 137. 568. 

Zevio, Stefano da. 345. 367, 377, 

379, 399, 407. 
Zoppo, Paolo, 429. 456, 489. 
Zuccari, Federigo, 556. 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



>3! 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



NOV -^ iqif? 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 





008 966 143 2 g 



